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OCTOBER, 1890. 


^ONTH Vfi 









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[The entire contents of this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special P ermis Sl on. ] 



Portrait of Joseph Jefferson . . Frontispiece 

Out-of-the-Ways in High Savoy Edward Eggleston 80J 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell. °l 

The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson. Conclusion . . . Joseph Jefferson 81 J 

Pictures by the author, Otto H. Bacher, and from photographs. 

Why Patronage in Office is Un-American Henry Cabot Lodge 837 

Friend Olivia. Conclusion . - ; Amelia E% Barr g 44 

On Meteorites and the History of Stellar Systems . . G. H Darwin 8t8 

Picture from a celestial photograph. j 

An Artist's Letters from Japan John La Farge 866\ 

Pictures by the author. 

The Women of the French Salons. VI. The Salons of) A ,. „ %jr 

the Eighteenth Century \ Amelia Gere Mason . . . . ■ , 878 

Pictures by George Wharton Edwards, and from photographs. 

How Jerry Bought Malviny Virginia Frazer Boyle . ... 802 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. ' y 

Prehistoric Cave-Dwellings . . . . F. T. Bickford 896 

Pictures by O. Toaspern, John A. Fraser, D. B. Keeler, A. Brennan, A. B. Davies, and V. Perard. 

In Dark New England Days ............... Sarah Orne Jewett on 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. 

The Empty Hour. . . Julie M. Lippmann 920 

Woman in American Literature Helen Gray Cone . Q2I 

01101 Louise Imogen Guiney ... 930 

A Hard Road to Travel out of Dixie W. H. Shelton 93I 

Pictures by the author, and from photographs. 


Partisan Recognition of the Independent Voter ......... 9 - 

A Test of Good Citizenship • • • • 953 

The Merit System in the Fifty-first Congress 9 5 3 


The Merit Svstem 5 ^ v ^ Service Commissioner ) 

J I Hugh S. Thompson . . < , f 954 

Does Vivisection Help? Edward Berdoe -956 

An Anecdote of Sheridan Gen. Abner Doubleday .... 958 

McClellan's Candidacy with the Army . . Earl M. Rogers . 959 


To my Lost Luray . . John Eliot Bowen 959 

Mammy's Churning Song . Edward A. Oldham ... Q 6o 

Picture by E. W. Kemble. * 

The wood-engravings in this number are by G. Kruell, E. H. De L'Orme, H. Davidson, R. C. Collins, T. W Evans E 
w er ?f n £, P - An l en \ ] 'J'J UU Z lin Z> T ' A - Butler > T ' Johnson, R. G. Tietze, J. H. E. Whitney, H. Velten, Henry Marsh 
W. B. Closson, R. A. Muller, J. P. Davis, C. A. Powell, H. E. Sylvester, C. Schwartzburger, T Schussler, G P Barde 

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$The-Century-0>® . 

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SOMETIMES one can get a better idea 
of the use and value of a reference 
book from a single example of a term 
denned in it than from a long description 
of the whole 
work. On this 
page are the 

Y-1 »•>•»•:» 



which accom- 
pany " The 
Century Dic- 
tionary's" de- 
finition of the 
word " lace," 
— from which 
one learns 
that in old 
times it was 
spelled las 
and laas. that 

Alengori Lace {Point d'Alengon). 

it comes from the Old French las, a noose 
or snare, derived from the Latin laqiieus, 
a noose, which, in turn, is perhaps from 
lacere, to allure. After the various defini- 
tions, quotations, etc., come brief descrip- 
tions of different kinds of lace, and it is to 
this that we wish to call especial attention, 
for it is the feature which makes " The 
Century Dictionary " of the greatest pos- 
sible use in the 
home. What is 
Buckingham lace ? 
wherein does Alen- 
gon differ from 
Antwerp ? what is 
seami?ig-lace ? 

" The Century " 
defines the follow- 

ing different kinds 

of lace: 






Ave Maria 









* Lace. 

* These illustrations are 
seen to much better effect 
printed on the beautifully 
finished paper of the Dic- 


Bone point- 

Caterpillar point- 

* Brussels Lace. 


Dresden point- 

English point- 
False Valenciennes 
Flat point- 
Flemish point- 









Looking over this list one notices an 
occasional hyphen. That is another 
point about "The Century Dictionary" 
— if one wishes to know whether to 
use a hyphen or not in writing chain- 
lace or thread lace "The Century Dic- 
tionary " will 
give the in- 

Should one 
write foretop- I ■■H 
mast or fore- |P^H 
top mast or 
fore-topmast or 
foretopmast ? 

The uniform- 
ity observed in 
the use of the 
hyphen has al- 
ready made " The Century Dictionary ' 
a standard in many printing offices. 

The descriptive pamphlet with speci- 
men pages costs five two-cent stamps. 





Mechlin Lace. 


Oct. »0O. 

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DgwoooofloooooooooooogHE twentieth anniver- 
lT^^-2-Tr* I sary of The Century, 
8 and the beginning of 
§ its forty -first half-year- 
8 ly volume, is cele- 
8 brated by the publica- 

S^ry^^^TiA § ti° n °f tne next (No- 
8000000000000000000008 vember) number. The 
date will be marked by an issue of special 
interest, and the twenty-first year of the 
magazine will contain a wealth and variety 
of literary and artistic material that can 
not be here fully detailed, but which is 
fairly indicated by the announcements 
that follow : 


The Century series of separate illus- 
trated papers on the romantic movement 
to California in 1849 and the events which 
preceded it begins in the November num- 
ber, with a narrative, by General John 
Bidwell, of the experiences of " The 
First Emigrant Train to California." 
General Bidwell gives a graphic account 
of the organization of this first movement 
to California, and of the toils, perils, and 
mishaps of the journey. The article will 
be capably and picturesquely illustrated 
by Remington and Fenn, and by unpub- 
lished drawings by the late Charles Nahl, 
well known in California as 
an artist of the gold-hunting 

Among other articles which 
will follow, as nearly as pos- 
sible in chronological order, 
besides the contributions of 
General and Mrs. Fremont 
are " California before the 
Gold Discovery," a paper of 
unique interest by General 
Bidwell, who was for some 
years at Sutter's Fort, the 
headquarters of Americans; 
an historical sketch of the 

Missions by John T. Doyle, A Tibetan g° d - 

Esq., illustrated by Fenn; a description of 
" Ranch and Mission Life before the Gold 
Disco-very," by Miss Guadaloupe Vallejo, 
niece of General Vallejo, reflecting the life 
of the Spanish Californian; a historical 

sketch of the Discovery of Gold, by Mr. 
John S. Hittell, the California historian — 
including memoranda by surviving mem- 
bers of Marshall's party ; narratives of the 
trip to California by the different routes, 
including those by the way of Cape Horn, 
by Panama, by Nicaragua, by Vera Cruz 
and San Bias, and by the Gila River; im- 
portant and graphic accounts of Life in 
the Mines, The Vigilance Committees (by 
the chairman of both committees, Wm. 
T. Coleman, Esq.); A Woman's Pioneer 
Experiences (by a survivor of the ill-fated 
Donner party) ; besides interesting shorter 
special memoranda in a new temporary 
department entitled " Californiana." 


There is no part of the world of equal 
civilization of which so little has been 
divulged as Tibet, — separated as it is 
from India and China by the loftiest range 
of mountains in the world, and from Mon- 
golia by high and uninhabitable steppes. 
A well-qualified and adventurous Ameri- 
can traveler, Mr. W. Woodville Rockhill, 
formerly of the American diplomatic ser- 
vice, has recently returned from a long, 
perilous, and successful journey through 
this the unknown heart of Asia, and will 
give in a series of illustrated papers in 
The Century the results of his travels 
and observations. For 
seven hundred miles of 
Mr. RockhilPs journey 
he passed through a 
country where no white 
man had ever set foot. 
It was, of course, nec- 
essary that the author 
should travel in dis- 
guise. To show what 
dangers encompass the 
path of the foreigner 
we quote from the 
author's account : 

" In Tibet nearly every 
crime is punished by 
the imposition of a fine, and murder is by no 
means an expensive luxury. The sum varies ac- 
cording to the social standing of the victim, 120 
bricks of tea (worth a rupee a brick) for one of 
the upper ten . . . and so on down to two 
or three for a pauper or a wandering foreigner, as 
Lieutenant Lu Ming-Yangkindlyinformed me." 

The-Century*Co~33HEast- I7T?STREET4slEw\bRK 

'W " vo 

THE CENTURY FOR 1890-91— Continued. 

Monsignor Felix Birt, Vicar-Apostolic 
of Tibet, recently wrote to Mr. Rockhill, 
informing him of the imprisonment of 
certain of his servants, and of the fact that 
the explorer himself would have been 
killed if he had lingered at Tchegundo. 
The Bishop adds : 

" Since Messrs. Hue and Gabet's journey to 
L'Hassa in 1845, your exploring expedition, 
I do not hesitate to say, has been the most 
difficult and the most important executed in 
Asia in the course of this century — the most 
difficult and the most dangerous, I say, con- 
sidering that you have traveled these im- 
mense steppes, that land of grass, without 
an escort, only accompanied by a few ser- 
vants, living on tsamba, the meal of roasted 
barley and rancid butter, sleeping in the 
open air, unable to lay in a fresh stock of 
provisions in those desert regions, and 
dreading the habitations of man more than 
the solitude. . . . You have opened up 
the road, you have mapped out a route, a 
route of prime importance for commerce, 
and of political and civilizing influence for 
Tibet. . . . Your successful journey 
has opened up this fine country, teeming 
with natural riches which are lying forgotten 
and unutilized. May commercial associa- 
tions and learned societies turn their atten- 
tion to the people of Tibet, who have so 
long been forgotten and so vigorously been 
excluded from civilization by the tyranni- 
cal yoke of the Lamas." 

Curious and rare illustrations have been 
made from photographs, objects brought 
from the country by Mr. Rockhill, and 
sketches made by the author. 


Since completing their elaborate his- 
torical work on Abraham Lincoln, Messrs. 
Nicolay and Hay have undertaken to 
write for The Century several papers of 
a more intimate character on Lincoln's 
Personal Traits. These papers will 
differ from the Life in being signed by 
their respective authors. They will be 
supplemented by a remarkable posthu- 
mous essay on Lincoln by Horace 
Greeley, written in the form of a lec- 
ture, which, as is believed, was not only 
never published, but was never even de- 
livered. This estimate of Lincoln, by 
one whose relations to the President were 
so important, will be read with peculiar 
interest by those who have followed the 
history of these relations as set forth in 
the Life by Nicolay and Hay. 


A phase of war literature interesting to 
everybody, because it is enlivened with 

adventure and tinged with the personal 
heroism that colors all romance, is that 
which chronicles the experiences and 
escapes of war prisoners. During the 
civil war captives, in num- 
bers aggregating great ar- 
mies, were held on each side 
in vast prison inclosures. Es- 
capes were numerous from 
all of the " camps," and some 
of the journeys through the 
enemy's country to friendly 
lines were wonderful for the 
endurance and daring of the 
fugitives. From time to time 
the series begun in the July and August 
Century with Dr. T. H. Mann's articles 
on " A Yankee in Andersonville," and 
carried on in the present number with 
Lieutenant Shelton's " A Hard Road to 
Travel out of Dixie," will be continued 
with papers by Confederate, as well as 
Union officers, who had thrilling adven- 
tures as prisoners of war. 


Readers of The Century will be 
offered during the coming year passages 
from the diaries of George M. Dallas, a 
charming writer, who in his time was a 
great force in public affairs and an aspir- 
ant for the presidency. Under Polk he 
was vice-president of the United States ; 
previous to which he had been United 
States senator, and under Van Buren, 
minister to Russia. In two or three illus- 
trated papers will be given the most inter- 
esting parts of his diary during his mission 
to the Russian capital, w T here he was 
treated with distinction by the Czar 
Nicholas, and where he saw much of the 
social life of St. Petersburg. It was dur- 
ing his sojourn that the winter palace 
was burned. When his political rival, 
Buchanan, was elected president, Mr. 
Dallas accepted the mission to the Court 
of St. James, where he remained until the 
outbreak of the civil war, 


Of the four generals who, since the 
civil war, - have gained special renown 
as Indian fighters — Custer, Mackenzie, 
Crook, and Miles — the three first men- 


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Zff# CENTURY FOR 1890-91 — Continued. 

tioned have passed away. And as they 
and the only survivor did their work so 
well that Indian campaigns are virtually 
at an end in the great West, it is a fitting 
time to commemorate their work with 
papers descriptive of the character of these 
leaders and of the life of their campaigns. 
A brief series of articles by offi- 
cers who served with them will 
appear in The Century, to be 
illustrated by Remington, an ar- 
tist thoroughly at home among 
the cow-boys, troopers, and In- 
dians of the plains. 



WAR OF l8l 2. 

A genuine contribution 
to the naval history of the 
war of 181 2-14 has been 
made by Edgar S. Maclay 
through his investigations 
in the French archives; and 
the results of his studies will 
be set forth in two handsomely illustrated 
papers to be printed in the November and 
December Century. The well-known 
marine artist, Davidson, is the illustrator 
of these interesting chapters of history. 



The publishers are glad to announce a 
new novel by the author of" The Hoosier 
Schoolmaster," "Roxy," " The Graysons," 
etc., one dealing with entirely new mate- 
rial, so far as the celebrated author is con- 
cerned. Dr. Eggleston has hitherto in his 
novels treated of Western life ; in the pres- 
ent story, the scene is laid entirely in the 
city of New York ; and the central theme 
is, as indicated by the title, one of the most 
curious and striking developments of mod- 
ern and contemporaneous thought and life 
— namely, "Faith Cure " and " Christian 
Science." But aside from this theme the 
novel deals with various phases of society 
in an amusing as well as philosophic man- 
ner. It will begin in a few months. 

" Chad" in " Colonel Carter of Cartersvillt 



One of the principal features of The 
Century's coming year will be a number 

of brief serial stories, illustrating the most 
varied features of American life. One of 
the most original of these will be a five- 
number story by Mr. Francis Hopkinson 
Smith. Mr. Hopkinson Smith is as well 
known in New York and vicinity as a ra- 
conteur as he is as artist and author ; and 
"Colonel Carter of Car- 
tersville" will prove an 
old friend to many read- 
ers. The character has 
been elaborated ; the 
good colonel is brought 
to New York, where 
lie settles in bachelor 
quarters not far from 
the 10th Street Studio 
Building, and proceeds 
to promote his great 
financial scheme. 

The plot is as novel 
as the principal char- 
acter is typical ; and 
the traits of the latter 
are brought out in such 
a way as to afford not only constant amuse- 
ment but affectionate regard. The story 
will be illustrated by E. W. Kemble. 


" The Squirrel Inn " is a story of vil- 
lage and country life by the author of 
" Rudder Grange," " Mrs. Leeks and Mrs. 
Aleshine," etc. To quote the author's 
own description of it : It is a " story of the 
crooked course of love in a crooked house. 
It is unlike ' The Merry Chanter,' show- 
ing more of the fun of realism than of the 
realism of fun, and all who start for Hy- 
men's altar (which is an easier place to 
reach than Boston) get there. Six persons 
take their places in the Dance to Wedlock, 
and the story is the story of their mazes, 
their whirls, and their twists, as merrily, 
or indignantly, they take their steps," 

The illustrations of " The Squirrel 
Inn " are by Mr. A. B. Frost, whose for- 
tunate designs for " Rudder Grange " will 
be remembered. The artist and author 
have worked together in the preparation 
of the pictures for the new story, and 
something unusually striking and interest- 
ing may be expected in the way of pic- 
torial accompaniment to the text. 

The- Century-Co - 33-East* I7^STREET~Nf=w\bRK 

|yuc__JUUL— !wk 

vvif viir try »iv in- 

THE CENTURY FOR 1890-91 — Continued. 



Mrs. Amelia Gere Mason's papers on 
the " Women of the French Salons," which 
have been marked by their literary flavor 
and keen appreciation of the quality and 
influence of the social and literary centers 
of the old regime, have lacked only some 
account of the brilliant women, nearer 
to the spirit of the present age, who were 
the leaders of the " salons of the Revolu- 
tion, Empire and Restoration." To sup- 
ply such a conclusion to the series Mrs. 
Mason has prepared two supplemental 
papers which will be illustrated with por- 
traits of Mme. De Stael, Mme. Roland, 
Mme. Recamier, and others. 


The Century during the coming year, 
among its other Art features, will aim to 
present in every number some striking 
example of the best contemporary work 
of American artists — engraved by the 
leading American wood-engravers after 
the originals. The first of this series will 
be Mr. Will Low's oil-painting, exhibited 
at the Society of American Artists, and 
entitled " The Portrait." 


A short series of separate papers on this 
subject will be published during the com- 
ing yean The high character and author- 
itativeness of these papers may be judged 
from two which are now in preparation, 
namely, "The Press as a News Gatherer," 
by William Henry Smith, Esq., of New 
York, manager of the Associated Press; 
and " The Press and Public Men," by 
General H. V. Boynton, the veteran 
correspondent at Washington. 


The problem of municipal government 
is being studied with renewed interest in 
both the Old and the New World, and 
the articles by Dr. Albert Shaw on this 
subject, which The Century will print, 
will be among the most timely, valuable, 
and practically suggestive that have ever 
appeared in its columns. 

Dr. Shaw will be remembered as the 
author of the striking article on " Glas- 

gow," in this magazine for March, 1890. 
He will give studies of Metropolitan Lon- 
don; Paris and the French Municipal 
System; Berlin and the German cities 
(with running comments on Dresden, 
Leipsic, Munich, etc.); Recent Progress 
of Italian cities (said to be the most inter- 
esting of all) ; and modern city-making as 
illustrated by Vienna and Budapest. Dr. 
Shaw will also describe and discuss muni- 
cipal government in the United States. 


This unique series of well-considered 
utterances by prominent writers, on the 
great questions of the day, will be con- 
tinued during the coming year. The 
group has recently added to its own num- 
ber, and now consists of the following : 

Charles W. Shields. 
Henry C. Potter. 
Theodore T. Munger. 
Wm. Chauncey Langdon. 
Samuel W. Dike. 
Seth Low. 
Richard T. Ely. 

Hugh Miller Thompson. 
Charles A. Briggs. 
Washington Gladden. 
Francis G. Peabody. 
William F. Slocum, Jr. 
Edward J. Phelps. 
William J. Sloane. 

Charles Dudley Warner. 

The above list, as large and varied as it 
is, gives only a part of the contents of the 
new year, special announcements of feat- 
ures in preparation being reserved. The 
readers of The Century will continue to 
enjoy Mr. Cole's unique engravings after 
the Old Masters; Mr. George Kennan, 
who was interrupted in the preparation 
of his concluding papers, will, it is ex- 
pected, before long give further chapters 
of the story of his travels in Siberia and 
Russia; Mrs. Van Rensselaer will publish 
her final papers on English Cathedrals, 
and Mr. La Farge will give his views of 
art in general, and especially of modern 
and western art methods, from the point 
of view of an oriental residence. Several 
story-writers, entirely new to The Cen- 
tury's readers, will make their appear- 
ance during the coming year, and there 
will be the usual range of poetical con- 
tributions, especially by the younger poets 
of America. 

Terms of subscription, etc., will be found 
at the bottom of the second cover page. 
It is recommended that new subscriptions 
should begin with November. Subscribers 
are reminded that covers are ready for 
binding the volume which closes will) (lie 
present number. 



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goooooooooooooooooooo^ S already announced 
in these pages, that 
great work " Abraham 
Lincoln: A History," 
by Messrs. Nicolay 
and Hay, is now about 
to be issued in book 
in ten hand- 
some volumes of 500 pages each, mag- 
nificently illustrated with portraits of 
distinguished statesmen, generals, and 
civilians, contemporaries of Mr. Lincoln. 
A full and complete index, accompanying 
the last volume, makes the work invalu- 
able for reference. 

" Abraham Lincoln : A History " is 
sold only by subscription. The Century 
Co. will gladly send further particulars 
on request. 


To be sold through the trade. Ready October ioth. 


One of the most delightful books which 
has ever been offered to the public is the 
autobiography of the actor 
whose personality is per- 
haps dearer to Americans 
than that of any other player 
on the stage. What Joseph 
Jefferson would have to say 
of his eventful life, of the 
great men and women he 
has met, of the famous 
Jeffersons who preceded 
him, and of the creation of 
such a world-famous char- 
acter as Rip van Winkle 
would be interesting under 
any circumstances, but when 
told in the charming natural 
style of which Mr. Jefferson has shown 
himself the thorough master, his book 
becomes one of the most notable that has 
ever been printed. The chapters which 
have appeared in The Century collected 
in book form (and such beautiful book 
form), with each picture on plate paper, 
and bound up in a cover of white and 
gold, make a volume of rare interest and 
attractiveness. The illustrations form a 

magnificent portrait gallery of the Ameri- 
can stage. In one volume, 8vo, 500 pp., 
vellum cover richly ornamented, gilt top, 
uncut, in box, $4.00. 


Palmer Cox's curious " Brownies " 
have made 
many friends 
among the 
children (and 
grown people 
are not averse 
to looking at 
the pictures), 
and when the first Brownie Book was 
issued three years ago a sale of 25,000 
copies awaited it. The poems and pic- 
tures which Mr. Cox has contributed to 
St. Nicholas and other children's maga- 
zines and papers since the issue of his 
first volume have now been collected in 
attractive form under the self-explanatory 
title : " Another Brownie Book." Large 
pages (9^ x 8), illuminated cover, $1.50. 

* # 


A book of Christmas 
stories by Washington 
Gladden, many of which 
have been among the holi- 
day attractions of St. Nich- 
olas Magazine during past 
years. A beautiful gift- 
book for boys and girls. 
Square, 200 pp., illustrated, 




" Of all the books pub- 
lished for children, whether in single 
number or as a bound volume, there is 
nothing quite equal to St. Nicholas," 
says the School Jownal. In two parts; 
1 000 pages, richly illustrated. Cloth, $4.00. 

The above will be for sale everywhere 
after Oct. ioth. Copies sent by the pub- 
lishers post-paid on receipt of price. 

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qoooooooooooooooooooeaL boys and girls of 
from eight to sixteen: 
they are the ones who 
most enjoy it, and it is 
upon them that St. 
Nicholas wields the 
highest influence — 
sound, inspiring, last- 
ing; but there are pages in it for the very 
little ones too — and, after all, who is 
there too old to enjoy the fun and frolic of 
its pictures and rhymes? We even know 
grown-up people who subscribe to St. 
Nicholas, whose children are hardly out 
of their long clothes. — Nominally they do 
it for the young folks, but actually they 
want it themselves — it 's like a large party 
of adults taking a small child to the circus. 

From the first number, as is well known, 
the best writers, illustrators and engravers 
have contributed to its pages. And now, 
at the outset of its eighteenth year, the 
publishers are assured of continued and 
increased effort to maintain its high stan- 
dard and to keep the magazine in line 
with the best spirit and movement of the 
day ; first of all holding to the tastes and 
interests of the boys and girls themselves. 
The new volume, which begins with No- 
vember, will contain three 
serials by three favor- 
ite writers, whose stories 
in earlier volumes have 
proved exceedingly popu- 
lar. They are : 

" One Brave Boy," by 
J. T. Trowbridge, the 
famous friend of Ameri- 
can boys, whose " Cudjo's 
Cave" is as well known 
to those of us who were 
boys in war-times as is his 
" Tinkham Brothers' Tide- 
Mill " to the lads of to-day. 

" The Boy Settlers," by Noah Brooks, 
author of "The Boy Emigrants," etc. — a 
story full of stirring episodes, and a pic- 
turesque and faithful narrative of frontier 
life, based upon personal experiences. 

"A Spoiled Darling," by Frances 
Courtenay Baylor, author of " On Both 

Sides," "Juan and Juanita," etc. — a 
story which will enable the boys and girls 
of America and the boys and girls of 
England to meet halfway and see each- 
other face to face. 

Besides these there is to 
be a serial by Brander Mat- 
thews, a well-known. writer, 
who in this, his first long< 
story for boys and girls, 
evinces the same skill in 
the handling of plot and 
delineation of character 
that marks his work for 
adult readers. It is called 
"Tom Paulding; a Story 
of Buried Treasure in the 
City of New York." Another attractive 
feature will be " Chan Ok; a Tale of the 
Eastern Seas," by Julian O. Davidson, 
founded largely upon the author's expe- 
riences and notes of life in the Far East. 

# # 

Some of the other good things in store 
for St. Nicholas readers include : " A Talk 
about Reading," by Charles Dudley War- 
ner ; " The Story of the Golden Fleece," 
beautifully retold for young readers by 
Andrew Lang; " Making a Newspaper," 
two valuable and interesting articles by 
Julian Ralph; folk-tales of the Pueblo 
Indians, taken down by Charles F. Lum- 
mis from the actual recitals of old Indians 
sitting by their camp-fires ; capital brief 
sketches of boy life, u Swimming-Hole 
Stories," by Walter S. Bigelow, etc. 

There ! that is enough to show our 

point — which is that " no household 
where there are children is complete with- 
out St. Nicholas." One cannot put the 
spirit of the magazine into a prospectus — 
it is too subtle to be described in words ; 
but it is safe to say that if the reader of 
this page will try it for a year — or for a 
single month — in his own home, St. 
Nicholas will be a fixture for evermore. 
It costs $3.00 a year ; it is the most ex- 
pensive children's magazine in the world 
— and the public has been saying for 
nearly twenty years that it is the best. 



Eg mv yvsf jtm tiv mw uiru tnrn *w 




the field of church 
music no other man 
has done so much, nor 
has any other com- 
piler so satisfied the 
wants of the churches 
and at the same time 
led them towards a 
higher form of worship in song, as the 
Rev. Charles S. Robinson, D. D., LL. D., 
whose hymn and tune books are published 
by The Century Co. His latest work 
is the " Laudes Domini " Series, which 
now consists of " Laudes Domini " (for 
the church and the 
choir — unabridged), 
" Laudes Domini 

Abridged" (for small- 
er churches, chapels, 
schools, etc.), " Laudes 
Domini for the Prayer 
Meeting" (just issued), 
and " Laudes Domini 
for the Sunday School," 
one of the greatest 
successes of modern 
Sunday-school music 

In i862 ? while then 

a young pastor in 
Brooklyn, Dr. Robin- 
son prepared " Songs 
of the Church." En- 
couraged by its suc- 
cess, in 1865 he com- 
piled " Songs for the 
Sanctuary," perhaps 
the best known of all 
hymn and tune books for Presbyterian 
and Congregational Churches. In 1875 
he issued " Psalms and Hymns and 
Spiritual Songs"; in 1879 ".Spiritual Songs 
for Church and Choir," and in 1884 the 
first edition of " Laudes Domini," of 
which the Rev. Dr. Noble of Chicago 
says, "It seems to me the final challenge 
of hymn -book-making genius. I do not 

see how it can be better." 
# # 

About two million copies of Dr. Robin- 
son's books have, it is estimated, been 
issued. These include the various edi- 
tions prepared for churches of denomina- 

gregational — Baptist, Reformed Epis- 
copal, Cumberland Presbyterian, Church 
of God, Freewill Baptist, etc. Per- 
haps the largest order that ever came to 
the publishers from any one church was 
that from the Rev. Dr. John Hall's of 
New York, when it adopted " Laudes 
Domini " in church, prayer-meeting, and 
Sunday-school, ordering two thousand 

copies of the unabridged edition. 
# # 

We give on this page a picture of the 
Church of the Covenant in Washington. 
The Rev. T. S. Hamlin, D. D., is pastor, 
and President Har- 
rison and Secretary 
Blaine are among the 
attendants. The con- 
gregational singing, 
under the leadership 
of an exceptionally 
efficient precentor, is 
said to be " excellent 
and often inspiring." 
" Laudes Domini " is 
used in the regular 
church service, and 
the abridged edition 
in both prayer-meeting 
and Sunday-school. 
The former book is 
also used in the New 
York Avenue and the 
Metropolitan Presby- 
terian churches of 

# # 

Church of the Covenant, Washington, D. C. 

" Laudes Domini 
for the Prayer Meet- 
ing," just issued, is not an abridgment of 
the large book, but a compilation made 
from it with much new material especially 
adapted to prayer-meetings added. The 
publishers have just made an offer to allow 
Sunday-schools to try " Laudes Domini 
for the Sunday School " for four weeks, 
and if not satisfactory the copies may be 
returned without charge. Any respon- 
sible Sunday-school can have the oppor- 
tunity of accepting this offer, and a single 
sample copy will be sent to any superin- 
tendent or teacher for 25 cents. 

Write to The Century Co., New York, for 

further particulars and prices of books for all 

Lions other than the Presbyterian or Con- services of the church and Sunday-school. 

it VM ■ ' ~ 1 Vi 





May iSpO, to October l8(p. 

<U«> N *^Mj 



Vol XL Nezt) Series Vcl.XFffl 

Copyright, 1890, by The Century Co. 

The De Vinne Press. 





Andersonville, A Yankee in T. H. Matin 447, 606 

Pictures by W. Taber. 

Anglomaniacs, The , 269, 435, 575, 677 

Pictures by C. D. Gibson. 


On Meteorites and the History of Stellar Systems G. H. Danvin 858 

Picture from a photograph. 

Athletics, Track, in America Walter Camp. . 203 

Pictures by W. Taber, from instantaneous photographs, and tailpiece by George Wharton Edwards. 

Athletics, The Influence of Editorial 315 

Bacon, Nathaniel, the Patriot of 1676 Edward Eggles ton 418 

Pictures by Allegra Eggleston, and from old prints. 

f * * * ) ->s 

Bashkirtseff, Marie, Two Views of 1 > 

} D... S • . 2 9 

Pictures by Marie Bashkirtseff, and from a photograph. 

Bible, The, and Homer William Cleaver Wilkinson . . 282 

Bloodhounds and Slaves Observer 479 

BOTTICELLI. See " Italian Old Masters." 

Buffalo " Guard of Honor " Charlotte Mulligan 158 

( 'ai. 1 forma. 

The Treasures of the Yosemite John Muir 483 

Features of the Proposed Yosemite National Park John Muir 656 

The Date of the Discovery of the Yosemite Lafayette //. Bunnell 705 

Amateur Management of the Yosemite Scenery 797 

How California Came into the Union George Hamlin Fitch 775 

Light on the Seizure of California Josiah Royce 792 

The California Boundary Question in 1849 Francis J. /.if>f>itt 794 

Carroll, Miss, The Cask of S". /-.'. Blackwell 638 

Cathedral, Wells Mrs. Schuyler ran Rensselaer 7.24 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell. 

Cave-Dwellings, Prehistoric /•'. 7\ Bickford 800 

Pictures by O. Toasperm, John A. Krascr, I). i'». Keeler, A. Ureiinan. A. B. Davies, and V. IVraul 

Charity: Public Relief. The Buffalo Guard of Honor Charlotte Mulligan 158 

iv INDEX. 

Chickens for Use and Beauty H. S. Babcock .... 47 

Pictures by James C. Beard and August Will. 

Chinese Note. (Drawing) E. W. Kemblc 480 

Churches and the Poor, The Editorial 153 

Church Unity, The Social Problem of Charles W. Shields 687 

Cities, Misgovernment of - Editorial 798 

Citizenship, A Test of Good Editorial 953 

College, Female, The First Harry Stillwell Edwards 159 

Colonies, American. See " Bacon." 

Conscience, On Lack of, as a Means of Success Editorial 474 

Consciousness, A Study of , H. C. Wood. 72, 639 

Decoration Day Revery, A Brander Matthews . . , 102 

Picture by R. W. Lockwood. 

Dixie, A Hard Road to Travel Out of IV. II. Shelton 931 

Pictures by the author and from photographs. 

Duello, The Lingering Editorial 152 

Education, The New Movement in , Editorial 151 

Electoral System, Reformed, New York's Editorial 474 

Emancipation of Joseph Peloubet, The John Elliott Curran 525 

Pictures by Harper Pennington. 

Epitaphs, Martial. Rossiter Johnson 156 

Explorers, The New School of , . . , Editorial 635 

Farragut, Admiral, An Anecdote of A. E. P. Perkins 318 

French Salons, The Women of the Amelia Gere Mason 77 

226, 356, 596, 643, 878 

Pictures by Kenyon Cox, John A. Fraser, M. Leloir, August Will, George Wharton Edwards, A. Brennan, and 
from engravings. 

Friend Olivia Amelia E. Barr 34 

182, 464, 623, 760, 844 

G. A. R., The, as Seen from the Inside George I. Kilmer 154 

Homer and the Bible William Cleaver Wilkinson . . 282 

How Jerry Bought Malviny Virginia Eraser Boyle 892 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. 

In Dark New England Days Sarah Ome Jezuett 911 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. 

Irish Kings and Brehons Charles de Kay 294 

Pictures by J. W. Alexander, A. Brennan, W. J. Baer, W. Taber, O. H. Bacher, and from prints. 

Irrigation. By the Director of U. S. Geological Survey. 

Arid Lands, Institutions for the J. W. Powell in 

Forests and Streams Abbott Kinney . . 63 J 

Italian Old Masters IV. J. Stillman. 

With engravings and notes by T. Cole. 

Andrea del Verrocchio 95 

Filippino Lippi. With frontispiece (facing page 323) 462 

Sandro Botticelli. With frontispiece (facing page 483) 501 

Japan, An Artist's Letters from John la Farge . 195, 566, 751, 866 

Pictures by the author. 

Jefferson, Joseph, The Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson 135 

Pictures from photographs. 263, 406, 538, 704, 814 

Australia 135 A Chinese Theater 266 

Melbourne 137 Callao 406 

The " Skeleton Dance " 138 Lima 408 

The Shepherd 139 A Midnight Funeral 408 

An Australian Tragedy 142 A Beggar on Horseback 409 

A Terrible Audience 143 The Theater in Callao 410 

The Keans in Australia 263 A Religious Tableau 410 



A Tropical City 411 John B. Rice 715 

Leaving South America 411 " The Rivals " 717 

An Incident in Panama 412 William Warren 722 

The New " Rip Van Winkle " in London 414 Portrait of Joseph Jefferson, facing page 803 

English Relatives 416 Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams 814 

John Brougham 538 John Drew 814 

Tom Robertson 539 Charlotte Cushman 815 

Artemus Ward 541 Mrs. Drake 816 

Edwin Adams 542 Reflections on the Art of Acting 820 

The Combination System 544 Preparation and Inspiration 821 

George D. Prentice 545 Rehearsals '. 822 

Tom Glessing Again 547 A Story of Burton 825 

George Holland, " The Little Church Around the Should an Actor " feel " his Part 825 

Corner " 548 Dramatic Writing 826 

Charles Fechter 549 A Fault of French Acting 826 

Once More in Paris 551 The Actors of To-Day 826 

French Acting 552 Imitation and Acting 827 

French and English Painters 553 Freshness in Playing a Part — A Story of Mrs. Warner and 

English Acquaintances 554 Macready 828 

The Rev. Joseph Jefferson , 704 Learning to Act 830 

Gainsborough 705 Conversations Concerning " Rip Van Winkle " 831 

In Scotland 705 Realism on the Stage 832 

In Ireland 708 Playing " Rip " in the Catskills 832 

At Home Again 708 In Louisiana 834 

Talks with Charles Mathews 711 

Journalists and Newsmongers Editorial 313 

Kentucky Blue-grass, A Taste of .John Burroughs 339 

Pictures by W. L. Maclean. 

Lincoln, Memoranda on the Life of. 

A Word from England Henry De Garrs 305 

Lincoln in Petersburg C. C. Carpenter 306 

Lincoln's Visit to Richmond 307 

The Stars and Stripes in Richmond Loomis L. Langdon 307 

The Stage and Proscenium Boxes of Ford's Theater. (Drawing) 308 

General Grant and the News of Lincoln's Death Charles E. Bolles 309 

At the Death-bed of Lincoln A. E. Rockzuell 310 

The House in which Lincoln Died. (Diagram) 310 

Lincoln's Military Guard //. M. Kieffer 311 

Lincoln's Fame L. S. H 311 

Lincoln's Nomination Thomfts II. Dudley 477 

McClellan's Candidacy with the Army Earl Jll. Rogers 959 

Lippi, Filippino. See " Italian Old Masters." 

Literature, American, Woman in Helen Gray Cone 921 

Little Venice Grace Denio Litchfield 367 

Pictures by Mary Hallock Foote. 

Lois Benson's Love Story Anne Page 697 

London Polytechnics and People's Palaces Albert Shaw 163 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell, Harry Fenn, E. J. Meeker, Hughson Hawley, V. Gribayedoff, and from photographs. 

McClellan. See "War." 

Manuscripts, Nine Thousand Editorial 313 

Marble Hills, In the Rowland E. Robinson 743 

Pictures by J. A. S. Monks. 

Martial Epitaphs Rossiter Johnson 156 

Mere March kite Arlo Bates 244 

Picture by E. J. Major. 

Merit System, The, in the Fifty-first Congress Editorial 953 

Merit System, The Hugh S. Thompson 954 

Millions, The Forgotten Charles //'. Eliot 556 

Mount Desert. See " Millions, The Forgotten." 

Naval Guns, Our New C. E. Goodrieh O67 

Pictures by W. Tabcr, A. Will, D. Comins. 1 'ingrains by Jacob Wells. 

New England Days, In Dark Sarah Orne Jewett 911 

Pictures by E. W. Keinble. 

vi INDEX. 


News ? What 's the Eugene M. Camp 260 

Newsmongers and Journalism , Editorial 313 

North, Christopher David B. Scott 318 

Observations J. A. Macon 319, 640, 800 

O'Hara, Theodore : Robert Bums Wilson 106 

Pictures by Harry Fenn and from a daguerreotype, with O'Hara's " The Bivouac of the Dead." 

Patronage in Offices is Un-American, Why. . , Henry Cabot Lodge 837 

Politics, Tom-toms in Editorial 476 

'Possum Hunt, The. (Drawing) E. IK Kemble 319 

Present-Day Papers. 

The Social Problem of Church Unity Charles IV. Shields 687 

Provencal Pilgrimage, A Harriet IV. Preston . . . .323, 586 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell. 
Provence Editorial 636 

Reflections Charles D. Stewart 480 

Reign of Reason, The Viola Rosebord 1 349 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. 

Robertson, Archibald. See "Washington." 

Romance of Two Cameras, The Elizabeth IV. Champney ... 117 

Ryder, Albert Pinkham Henry Eckford 250 

Pictures by Albert Pinkham Ryder. 

Savoy, High, Out-of-the-Ways in. .Edward Eggleston 803 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell. 

Sermon, A Recent . . Editorial 476 

Sheridan. See "War." 

Siberia and the Exile System. (See also preceding volumes.) 

" Blacked Out " George Kcnnan 65 

With facsimiles of pages blacked out by Russian Censors. 

Siberian Exile Petition Movement in Philadelphia, The Alfred J. P. McClure 636 

Solitude, The Distaste for Editorial 633 

South America, Trade »with .Alfred Batch 316 

Tax, A Single, upon Land Edward Atkinson 385, 403 

Tax, A Single, upon Land Values Henry George 394 

Taxation, Comparative Edward Atkinson 284 

Teaching, The Science of, and University Extension Mary Hargrove Simpson. . . . 479 

Travis and Major Jonathan WTlby Richard Malcolm Johnston. . 125 

Pictures by A. B. Frost. 

Trusty, No. 49 Octave Thanet 212 

Pictures by E. W. Kemble. 

University Extension. See "Teaching.' 1, 

Verrocchio. See " Italian Old Masters." 

Voter, Independent, Partisan Recognition of the , Editorial 950 

Vivisection, Does it Help ? Edward Berdoe 956 

War, Civil, Valor and Skill in. 

I. Was Either the Better Soldier Theodore Ayrault Dodge ... 144 

II. Which Was the Better Army Charles A. Patch 148 

A Yankee in Andersonville T. H. Mann 447, 606 

A Hard Road to Travel out of Dixie IV. H. Shelton 931 

Pictures by the author and from photographs. 

An Anecdote of Sheridan Abner Doubleday . 958 

McClellan's Candidacy with the Army Earl M. Rogers 959 

INDEX. vii 



Archibald Robertson, and his Portraits Edith Robertson Cleveland . . 3 

Pictures by Archibald Robertson and Andrew Robertson. 

( William Armstrong ....).. 14 

Edmund Latv Ropers . . \ . . 22 

Some New Washington Relics 

Pictures by Harry Fenn, and from photographs. 

Original Portraits of Washington Charles Henry Hart 26 

Frontispiece (facing page 3) and portrait by John Ramage. 

Washington and Memorial Day Editorial 15 1 

Wells Cathedral Mrs. Schuyler van Rensselaer 724 

Pictures by Joseph Pennell. 

Whaling, The Perils and Romance of Guslav Kobbe 509 

Pictures by W. Taber, J. O. Davidson, and Howard Helmick. 

Woman in American Literature Helen Gray Cone 921 

Wood-Engraving, The Outlook for Editorial 312 

Yosemite, The Treasures of the John Muir 483, 656 

Pictures by J. A. Fraser, William Keith, Harry Fenn, W. H. Shelton, Thomas Moran, and A. B. Davis, from photo- 
graphs by George Fiske. Maps by Jacob Wells. 


At a Dinner of Artists Richard Henry Stoddard. . . . 348 

At the Play Andrew B. Saxton 293 

Attainment Frank Dempster Sherman . . . 565 

Before the Baby Came Fannie Windsor 800 

Buried Thought Helen Thayer Hutcheson . . 461 

Constant Lover, The William R. Thayer 800 

Dialect Poem, The Evolution of the Henry Tyrrell 160 

Drurie, Marian Bliss Carmen 595 

Elf-Shot Louise Imogen Gniney 930 

Empty Hour, The Julie M. Lippmann 920 

Experientia Docet „ M. E. Wardwell 640 

Fallen, The John Vance Cheney 33 

Fickle Hope Harrison S. Morris 101 

Fighting Parson, The Henry Ames Blood 61 

Pictures by George Wharton Edwards. 

Going for the Cows IV.S. Snyder 800 

Guilielmus Rex „ Thomas Bailey Aldrich 633 

Immortal Helen Thayer Hutcheson .... 293 

In the Night Watches Alice Wellington Rollins .... 356 

" I Vex Me Not with Brooding on the Years " Thomas Bailey Aldrich 134 

Jefferson, Joe, Ox, Telling his Story John I. Heaion 160 

LAZYLAND Margaret J 'audegri/t 640 

LETTER, The Annie Louise Brakenridge . . . 320 

Lost Luray, To My John Eliot Bowen 959 

Love-making in Hay-making Zitella Cocke 480 

Love's Dawn John Hay 774 

Lieu, To Charles Henry Webb 320 

Mammy's Churning Song Edward A. Oldham 960 

Man Florence Earle Coates 194 

Modesty kohn Rend rich Bangs 640 

Muezzin, The Clin ton Scollard 406 

My Blotter and I Cora Stuart Wheeler 160 

Negro in the Overflow, The Virginia Frazer Boyle 639 

Night Scene, A Tames Herbert Morse 105 

Pearl, The Making of the Harriet Prescott Spofford . . . 500 

Perpetuity /-'rank Dempster Sherman . . . 565 

Photography, Amateur Nathan Haskell Dole 4S0 

viii INDEX. 


Plaint Margaret Vandcgrift 800 

Reflection, A Henrietta Stuart 320 

Repartee William Frederick Dix 800 

Rose of Dawn, The Louise Chandler Monlton ... 89 1 

September Ella Wheeler Wilcox 759 

Since Amy Died Andrew B. Saxton 60 

Song of Growth, A Charles G. D. Roberts 605 

Souvenirs Lloyd McKim Garrison 703 

(They Said. ) , Edith M. Thomas 574 

Twilight Song, For Unknown Buried Soldiers, North and South . Walt Whitman 27 

Under the Balcony Frank Dempster Sherman . . . 565 

Yellow-Hammer's Tap, The Edward A. Oldham 320 


Topics of the Time 151, 312, 474, 633, 797, 950 

Open Letters 154, 316, 477, 636, 954 

Bric-a-Brac , 160, 319, 480, 639, 800, 959 

Ascutney Street 

A Story by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, author of " Faith Gartney's Girlhood," etc. i2mo, $1.50. 

One of Mrs. Whitney's excellent stories which actually prove that reality, sincerity, unselfishness, and noble 
aspiration make life not only worth living but infinitely more sane and beautiful than low aims and pretense car 
make it. 

Nature, Lectures, and Ad- 
dresses; and Represen- 
tative Men. 

By Ralph Waldo Emerson. Popular Edition, 1 
vol., crown 8vo, cloth, $1.00. 

Prudence Palfrey. 

A Novel by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Riverside 
Paper Series. 50 cents. 

One of Mr. Aldrich's most delightful stories, and one 
of the most charming in American literature. 

Aztec L 


By Maturin M. Ballou, author of " Due West," ''Due South/' " Due North," " Under the Southern Cross'' 

and " The New Eldorado," etc. Each, crown 8vo, $1.50. 

Mr. Ballou, who is well known as one of the most intelligent and enterprising of modern travelers,has recently 
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Rab and his Friends, 

And Other Dogs and Men. By Dr. John Brown, 
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By John Fiske, author o>f " The Critical Period of 
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A book for schools and families, setting forth with 
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Alfred the Great. 

By Thomas Hughes, author of "Tom Brown's School 
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Four Great Teachers: 

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Essays, Speculative and Suggesti 

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To His Dresden Friends: Theodore Uhlig, Wilhelm Fischer, and Ferdinand Heine. Translated into English 
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general discipline of the family school will be of a military nature, 
but the strict discipline of the Academic Department will be tem- 
pered by the milder management of the well-conducted household. 
Boys of this department may avail themselves of the benefits of the 
Riding School. 

Terms, $450.00 per annum. 

The School will supply all bedding and linen. No extras. 

William Verbeck, Superintendent. 

New- YoRK,New- York, No. 4 East 58th Street. 

Mrs. Salisbury's School for Girls. 

Facing Central Park. 

New-York, New-York, 19 and 21 East 14th Street. 

Metropolitan Conservatory of Music. 

Best private instruction in all branches, also surrounds pupils 
with superior advantages in Class Work, Lectures, Concerts and 
the Languages. Refined boarding privileges for lady pupils. 
Dudley Buck and Albert Ross Parsons heading departments. 
Opens Sept. 15. Pupils received at any time. Book sent free. 

New- York, New- York, 224 W. 58th St. (Central Park). 

St. Louis College. 

Strictly select private Catholic School for boys. 
New-York, New-York, 1961 Madison Ave. 

Classical School for Girls. 

Certificate admits to Wellesley and other Colleges. Elective 
advanced Courses. Re-opens Oct. 1st. Unusual advantages for 
boarding pupils. Miss North and Miss Barnes, Principals. 

New-York, New- York, 31 West 42d St.,opp. Bryant Park. 

Miss Crocker and Miss Beck. 

School for Girls. Rc-opcns October 1. Classes for Boys. 
New-York, New- York, Lyceum Theater Building. 

American Academy of the Dramatic 

Arts. The next Academic Year begins Oct. 27. 

For particulars, address the Secretary. 

New-York, New-York, 260 W. 54th St. 

Feeble-Minded Children trained. 

Circulars sent. Thirteenth year. 

Oct. '90. 

Mrs. E. M. Seguin, Principal. 

New- York, New- York, 63 Fifth Avenue. 

The Misses Graham 

(Successors to the Misses Green), Boarding and Day School for 
Young Ladies. 

Established in 1816. 

This school continues the careful training and thorough instruc- 
tion, in every department, for which it has hitherto been so 
favorably known. Re opens Wednesday, October 1. 

New-York, New- York, 233 Lenox Ave. 

The New-York Collegiate Institute. 

A Rugby for Girls. Primary, Academic and Collegiate depart- 
ments. Especial attention to Physical Training. 

Rev. Alfred C. Roe, Principal. 
New-York, New-York, 9 West 14th Street. 

The Bryant School for Stammerers. 

For the correction and cure of stammering and all nervous de- 
fects of speech. Successful since 1879. Information, and testi- 
monials from eminent men and pupils on application. 

New-York, New-York City, 242 West Seventy-fourth St. 

Collegiate Grammar School. 

Classical, Intermediate, Primary Departments for Boys and Girls. 
Large Gymnasium. Re-opens September 29. 

Lemuel C. Mygatt, A. M., Head Master. 

New-York, New- York, 23 Warren St. 

Instruction at Home by Mail, courses in 

Perspective Drawing, Architectural Design, and Decorative Art. 
$25 to $50 per annum, according to number of assignments. For 
full particulars a pply to C. Powell Karr, Architect. 

New-York, New-York, 117 and 119 W. 125th St. 

The Barnard School. 

Ten boarding students received in head-master's family, enjoying 
all home privileges. Prepares for any college or business. Send 
for catalogue. Win. L. Hazen, B. A., LL. B. 

New-York, Brooklyn, 140 and 142 Columbia Heights. 

The Misses Ely's School for Girls 

will re-open October 1, 1890. 

New-York, Brooklyn, 138-140 Montague St. 

The Brooklyn Heights Seminary. 

Boarding and Day School for Girls. 40th year. Opens Sept. 
25th. Students prepared for college. Address for circulars. 

New- York, Poughkeepsie. 

Eastman Business College. 

Open all the year. A live school for the training of live business 
men. Persons of both sexes taught to earn a living and carefully 
prepared for honorable positions. Thorough instruction in Bojk- 
keeping, Banking, Commercial Law, Penmanship, Correspond- 
ence, Arithmetic, etc.; Telegraphing, Stenography, Typewriting, 
etc. Business men supplied with competent assistants on short 
notice. No charge for situations furnished. Terms reasonable. 
Time short. For information address 

Carrington Gaines, President. 

New- York, Utica. 

Mrs. Piatt's School for Young Ladies. 

The next school year begins Wednesday, September 24, 1S90. 
Applications should be made early. 

New- YORK, Bingham ton. 

The Lady Jane Grey School. 

Mrs. Hyde and Daughters 1 Home School for Young Ladies and 
Little Girls. Special and regular courses. Prepares for College 
and European travel. Address Mrs. Jane Grey Hyde. 

New Jersey, Burlington. 

St. Mary'S Hall, The oldest Church School in the 

country for Girls, will begin its 54th School Year on Sept. 29. 
For catalogue, apply to the Principal, Miss Charlotte TlTCOMB, 
or to the Bishop of New Jersey, the President. 

New Jersey, Burlington. 

Burlington College. W ai be reorganized as * 

School for Boys, preparing for the best Colleges and for Busings. 

It will open Sept. 29. The Bishop of New Jersey, Visitor. For 
information, address Rev. C. W. DuANE, A. M. , Principal. 

Niw Jkksky, Freehold. 
Freehold Institute. Established 1844. 

College preparation a specialty. Family school lot boys. Primary, 
High School and Classical Courses. Gymnasium. 

A. A. Chambers, A. M. 

New Jersey, New Brunswick. 

The Misses Anable's Boarding School 

for Young Ladies. Will re-open September 24th. Students 
prepared for College. 

Massachusetts, Amherst. 

The Terrace. 

Home School for Nervous and Delicate Children and Youth. 
Mrs. W. D. Herkick, Principal. 

Massachusetts, Boston. 

School of Drawing and Painting and 

Department of Decorative Design. Museum of Fine Arts. 
For circulars or further information, address the School. 

Massachusetts, Boston, 5 Otis Place. 

Mr. Hale's School for Boys. The eighth year 

begins Sept. 24. Prepares for Harvard College and the Institute of 
Technology on the same course of study. Physical science and 
modern languages the prominent featuies. Address Albert Hale. 
Massachusetts, Boston, Huntington Avenue. 

Tremont College of Music. 

Music, Elocution, Languages, English Branches and Painting. 
Fifty Teachers. Board for Lady Pupils from $5 to $7.50. Tuition, 
$6 to $60. Prospectus free. F. E. Bruce, President. 

Massachusetts, Billerica. 

Mitchell's Boys' School, l8 miles from Boston 

and 6 miles from Lowell on the Boston and Lowell R. R. A Select 
Fami'ly School for Boys, aged from 7 to 15, inclusive. Send for 
circular to M. C. Mitchell, A. M., Principal. 

Massachusetts, Springfield. 

Mr. and Mrs. John McDuflie, 

Successors to Miss Catharine L. Howard in her SCHOOL 
FOR GIRLS. Address 

Mrs. John McDuffie, care of Miss Catharine L. Howard. 

Massachusetts, Springfield. 

Home and Day School for Girls. 

" The Elms." Miss Porter, Principal. Certificate admits to 
Vassar, Wellesley and Smith. Quincy method for children. 

Massachusetts, Duxbury, Powder Point. 
POWder Point SchOOl. Prepares for Scientific 
School, College or Business. Advanced Mathematics, Physical and 
Chemical Laboratories. The boys are members of the family. 
Number limited. Frederick B. Knapp, S. B. (M. 1. T.) 

Massachusetts, Plymouth. 

Mr. Knapp's Home School for Boys. 

Twenty-fourth year begins Oct. 1, 1890. Mrs. Knapp, Principal; 
H. B. Learned (Harvard), Head-master. 

Connecticut, Fairfield Co., Brookfield Centre. 

The Curtis School for ( 1 4) Boys. $500. 

i6th year. My 50-page circular tells what education means for 
a boy here. Formation of character stands first with us. No new 
boy over fifteen. Frederick S. Curtis, Ph. B. (Yale, '69.) 

Connecticut, Stamford. 

Miss Aiken's School for Young Ladies. 

Thirty-fifth Year. Prepares for College or Harvaid Examinations 
for Women. Number limited to 24. Miss Aiken's Methods for 
Mind-Trainingand Concentration at Brentano's, Union Square, N.Y. 

Connecticut, Stamford. 

Miss Low's School for Girls. 

Re-opens September 24th. Circulars on application. 
Connecticut, Greenwich. 

Academy and Home for Ten Boys. 

Academy, 65th Year; Home, nth. Preparation for business or 
college. Absolutely healthful location and genuine home, with re- 
fined surroundings. References required. J. H. Root, Principal. 
Connecticut, New London. 

Backward and Invalid Boys. 

The undesigned, an experienced physician and teacher, makes 
the care and education of such boys a specialty. Location unsur- 
passed for beauty and health. Address Dr. Williamson. 

Connecticut, New Haven, West End Institute. 

Mrs. Cady's School for Young Ladies. 

Institute Course of Study and College Preparatory Course. Ad- 
mits to either Smith, Vassar or Wellesley by Certificate. Circulars. 
Early application necessary. 

Connecticut, New Haven. 

Chautauqua College. 

Thorough Systematic Home Study. 
Lewis Miller, Pres. J. H. Vincent, Chan. W. R. Harper, Prin. 

LATIN, 1. Studies guided, instructions 

GREEK, given, papers corrected by 

ENGLISH, correspondence. 

CERMAN 2 " Faculty composed of pro- 

' fessors in leading American 

FRENCH, Colleges 

MATHEMATICS, 3. Students take full College 

PSYCHOLOGY, courses or special branches. 

ETHICS 4- Preparatory Department 

HISTORY ^ or tnose unprepared to do 

POLITICAL ECONOMY, 5 . gjjjg ^itlhe student. 

THE SCIENCES, Etc. 6. Prices low. 

For information in regard' to courses of study and methods of 
work, address 

John H. Daniels, Registrar. 

Connecticut, Simsbury. 

McLean Seminary. 

Home School. Young Ladies. Beautiful and healthful location. 
Three hours from New-York. Half-hour from Hartford. Address 
Rev. J. B. McLean. 

Ohio, Gambier. 

Harcourt Place Seminary. 

A seminary for young ladies and girls. Established upon original 
lines, its growth has been remarkable. Admirable location. Ele- 
gant new building. Exceptionally strong faculty. Superior equip- 
ment and comprehensive character. Thorough preparation for the 
best American colleges for women, or a complete course. The next 
school year will begin September 24, 1890. For illustrated cata- 
logues address the Principal, Miss Ada I. Aver, B. A. 

Ohio, Gambier. 

Kenyon Military Academy. 

A select school for boys. 67th year will begin September 17, 
1890. Location of rare beauty and healthfulness, on a hill-top, 
eleven hundred feet above sea level. Elegant buildings. Masters 
all college graduates and teachers of tried efficiency. Thorough 
preparation for College or Business. Careful supervision of health, 
habits and manners. Particular attention paid to the training of 
young boys. Remarkable growth during the past four years. 
Large new gymnasium and drill hall. For catalogues address the 
Rector, Lawrence Rust, LL. D. 

Ohio, Cincinnati, Mt. Auburn. 

ML Auburn Institute. Established I s 5 6. 

French and English Home School for Young Ladies. History 
and Literature a Specialty. Careful Home Training and Social 
Culture. Best Music and Art advantages. European vacation 
parties. For illustrated catalogue, address 

H. Thane Miller. 

Ohio, Cincinnati, S. E. Cor. 4th and Lawrence Streets. 

Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. 

Miss Clara Baur, Directress. Established 1867. Day and 
Boarding Pupils can enter at any time during the school year and 
summer term. For Catalogue, address Miss Clara Baur. 

Ohio, Cincinnati. 

The College of Music of Cincinnati, 

endowed by the late R. R. Springer and associates, is not a school 
conducted for profit, but is a public institution whose entire in- 
come is devoted to instruction and cultivation in the art of music 
and collateral branches, such as dramatic action, modern languages 
and elocution. It is open throughout the year and pupils may enter 
any day, but are advised to come September 1. 

The College Buildings adjoin the magnificent Musie Hall 
and contain forty class and study rooms, libraries, waiting- 
rooms, offices and a large and beautiful concert hall, "The 
Odeon," seating twelve hundred persons, with a thoroughly 
equipped stage, and "The Lyceum," a smaller hall for 
lectures, recitalsand chamber music. In each hall is an organ. 
For catalogue and other information, address Peter Rudolph 
Neff, President, College of Music, Cincinnati, Ohio. 

Circulars of 
Mr. F. G. Paulson, 

441 Wood St. 


Mr. Neal Farnham, 
First Nat. Bank B'ld'g, 


Circulars of 

Mr. W. J. Wilcox, 

126 Washington St. 


lgS' : Mr. G. B. Sterling, 
52 Dey St. 



A MILITARY COLLEGE. Degrees in Civil Engineering, Chemistry, Architecture and Arts. 

Thorough Work in Laboratories, Drafting-room and Field. Military system second only to that of the U. S. M. A. 
A Preparatory Department. Best Moral, Mental and Physical Training. Spacious Buildings ; Extensive Equipment. 
Twenty-ninth Session opens September 17, i8qo. Circulars of Col. Charles E. Hyatt, President. 

Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Chestnut Hill. 

Mrs. Comegys and Miss Bell's Eng~ 

lish, French and German Boarding School for Young Ladies 
re-opens Sept. 29, 1890. Students prepared for College. 
Ample grounds for outdoor exercise. 

Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, 1700 Green Street. 

Miss Boyer's English, French & Music 

School. For Boarding and Day Pupils. Music department in 
charge of Miss E. P. Sherwood, and under the supervision of Mr. 
William H. Sherwood. 

Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Germantown. 
WalnUt Lane SchOOl, Formerly Madame Clement's 
— Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies. 34th year opens 
Sept. 24. Academical and college preparatory courses. 
Mrs. T. B. Richards, Prin. Miss S. L. Tracy, A. M., Assoc. Prin. 

Pennsylvania, Montgomery Co., Ogontz. 

Ogontz School for Young Ladies. 

Established in 1850, removed in 1883 from Chestnut St., Phila- 
delphia, to Ogontz, the spacious country seat of Jay Cooke. For 
circulars, apply to Principals. 

Pennsylvania, Bustleton, near Philadelphia. 

St. LUKe S SChOOl. A high-class school. Exception- 
ally healthful location. Prepares for any College or business. Boys 
sent this year to Yale, Harvard and Princeton. Special care of 
younger boys. Number limited. Chas. H. Strout, Prin. 

Pennsylvania, Bryn Mawr. 

Bryn Mawr College, a college for women. 

Bryn Mawr, Pa., ten miles from Philadelphia. Offers graduate and 
undergraduate courses in Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, Mathematics, 
English, Anglo-Saxon, French, Old French, Italian, Spanish, 
Celtic, German, including Gothic and Old High German, History, 
Political Science, Physics, Chemistry, Biology and lectures on 
Philosophy. Gymnasium with Dr. Sargent's apparatus complete. 
Fellowships (value $450) in Greek, English, Mathematics, History 
and Biology. For Program, address as above. 

Michigan, Orchard Lake. 

Michigan Military Academy. 

A College Preparatory School of the highest grade. Location 
thirty miles from Detroit, and unsurpassed for beauty and health- 
fulness. For catalogue, address Col. J. S. Rogers, Supt. 

Ohio, Columbus, 151 East Broad St. 

Miss Phelps's English and Classical 

School for Young Ladies. Special advantages in Language, 
Literature, Music, Art, Home and Social Culture. Fall term begins 
September 25, 1890. New School Building. 

Ohio, Cleveland, 1020 Prospect Street. 

Miss Mittleberger's School for Girls. 

Re-opens September 25. Certificate admits to Wellesley, 
Smith and Vassar. 

District of Columbia, > 1407 Massachusetts Avenue, and 
Washington. 5*212 and 1214 Fourteenth Street. 

Norwood Institute. 

A Select Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies and Little 
Girls, situated on "Highland Terrace," the highest poiiu in the city. 
Connecting houses. Large, pleasant grounds. Academic, Collegi- 
ate, Elective courses of study under a large corps of able and eminent 
instructors. The personal training and the privileges of home. 
Music and Modern Languages specialties of the school. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wil liam D. Cabell, Principals. 

Canada, Ontario, London. 

\2- _^T&- 

HellmUth College. 2-d year begins Sept. 10, 1890. 
One of the most complete institutions in America for the edu- 
cation of Young Ladies. Literature, Music, Art, Elocution, etc. 
Illustrated Circulars sent on application. Address 

Rev. E. N. English, M. A., Principal. 

"Education Ends Only With Life." 

Chautauoua Literary and Scientific Circle. 

Systematic Home Reading Directed by Weil-Known Men. 
Winter of 1890-91 (Thirteenth Year). English Language, History and Literature, 

Geology, French Letters. 

The following writers will contribute the readings: 
Edward Freeman, Harriet P. Spofford, George P. Fisher, Alexander Winchell, 

Henry A. Beers, 

W. C. Wilkinson, A. S. Hill, 

William Dowden (Dublin University), and others. 

Woodrow Wilson, 

The C. L. S. C. is a definite intelligent plan for aiding the ambitious and persevering to read systematically and 
to think closely and connectedly. Over 150,000 have been enrolled. 

Write for information to JOHN H. VINCENT, Drawer 194, Buffalo, X. Y. 


The buyer of a diamond, if he intend spending a large 
sum, usually feels confident of obtaining a fine stone that 
will fully represent and warrant his outlay. Among those 
who have in view a more modest expenditure, it is fre- 
quently evident that the case is not quite so clear Doubt 
is often felt whether the sum intended to be spent will buy 
a stone of sufficient size and beauty to meet the purchaser's 
desires, or to suit the requirements of the occasion. Such 
doubt is usually removed by an examination of a full and carefully chosen stock of precious 
stones. It is seen that the large outlay secures, as it should, a proportionate return. But it is 
seen, also, that a moderate outlay will command jewels of unexceptionable quality and beauty. 

Purchasers are as a rule surprised at the beauty and effectiveness of single-stone diamond 
rings that may be had, for example, at $50, $60, $75, etc., and so on up to $150, $200, etc. 
To any one in doubt whether the outlay of such sums will secure a ring worth considering, it 
may be said that there are few purchases of any kind that afford a fuller, more satisfying return 
for the amount expended. The variety of rings obtainable at these prices is very great. They 
may be set with a single diamond, or with two diamonds, or with a diamond and a ruby, or a 
diamond and a sapphire, or a diamond and an emerald, or a sapphire, or other colored stone, 
with two diamonds, etc. 

Correspondents at a distance can buy as advantageously as if dealing in person. At any 
price that may be named, a stone, or stones, of the requisite value will be chosen and set, and 
the ring sent subject to return, and to the refunding of the payment if it prove in any degree 
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the latter is often served more fully to his satisfaction than he could be in selecting for him- 
self from a bewildering variety of goods that distract the attention, and tempt him from his 
original purpose. THEODOEE B. STARR, 

No. 906 Fifth. Avenue, Madison. Square, New York. 

Standard -~\^ Flavoring 

»Oa HlbHLY <•<> 



No cartoons to hide long-necked and panelled bottles. 

Thoughtful people shou'd read the testi- 
monials below, from cooks of 
national reputation. 

Joseph Burnett & Co., Boston: 

Gentlemen, — I have used your Extracts for years, know- 
ing tlieui the best to be found in trie market. 

School of Cookery, Tremont Street. 

From Professor Blot. 

A good dish is often spoiled or rendered unpalatable by 
the use of a detestably cheap, impure and deleterious 
Flavoring Extract. 

In answer to inquiries from the ladies of my various 
classes, 1 invariably reply that during the past two years 
of my lectures on cookery, " I certainly prefer tho?e pre- 
pared by Joseph Burnett & Co., of Boston, above all 

There is no Nourishment 

' n Tea or Coffee, but plenty in 




which is rapidly supplanting tea and coffee as a national 
beverage. Van Houten's Cocoa is universally de- 
clared to be perfectly pure, free from fat, easily digested, 
delicious to the taste, nutritious, and a stimulant with- 
out any depressing after-effects. 

It was introduced into the household of the late Em- 
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senior physician of the London Court Hospital has used 
this brand of Cocoa for many years. It is strongly 
recommended to Students and all whose duties involve 
much wear and tear, whether mental or physical. For 
these reasons it has earned the highest encomiums of 
the leading analysts of the day. 

Van Houten's Cocoa — Best and Goes Farthest. 
It only needs a single trial to convince any one of the superiority 
of Van Houten's Cocoa. Please insist upon your grocer or store- 
keeper ordering it for you, and take no substitute. It is put up in 
one-quarter, one-half, and one-pound cans. If not obtainable, en- 
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go, and a Can of this most delightful Cocoa will be sent by mail. 
Prepared only by Van Houten & Zoon, Weesp-Holiand. 




The Century Magazine. 

Vol. XL. 

OCTOBER, 1890. 

No. 6. 


ais vous etes drole 1 " 
The wife of the keeper 
of the dirty little inn 
at Bioge was a stal- 
wart specimen of the 
Savoyard peasant 
woman, quite over- 
topping our young 
professor, who was 
essaying to know in 
advance what we should have to pay for a 
lunch for four of us. The professor is a mem- 
ber of the Alpine Club, and the Alpine Club 
men have learned by experience the propriety 
of knowing beforehand the charges of an inn- 
keeper. We had walked from Thonon on 
Lake Geneva since eleven o'clock, — it was 
now two, — and the journey between the pict- 
uresque cliffs, where breezes do not blow, 
had made us hungry, else we should never 
have invaded the uninviting tavern at Bioge 
with a request for dinner. 

" What will you charge for a lunch for these 
two young ladies, this gentleman, and myself — 
four of us ? " said the professor, walking boldly 
into the sanctum of pots and kettles, where 
stood the rugged woman with a copper ladle 
held like a club ready for use. 

" But you are a queer one ! " she cried deri- 
sively. " How can I tell how much you will 
eat ? " 

For a moment I feared that my companion 
would receive from the ladle a blow on the side 
of his head. 1 le stood his ground manfully for 
a while againstthe giantess, but we were obliged 
at length to take our bread and eggs and goat's 
milk without knowing beforehand what they 
would cost. The milk was foaming fresh from 
the goat and innocent of all pharisaical strain- 
ing, which in that place was better. When 
Copyright, 1890, by The Cent 

we had exhausted our pitcher of it I asked 
the solemn landlord, whom the young folks 
had dubbed " The Sexton," if there was yet 
another goat; whereupon he smiled reluct- 
antly and went for a second pitcherful fresh 
from its source. We ate and drank merrily, 
paid our three francs, wished the surly land- 
lady a good morning, and started on up the 
eastern branch of the Dranse, through cliffs 
that were wild indeed and where there were 
no roads as yet for wheels. We were now off 
the lines of travel and fairly away from guide- 

We passed engineers and workmen building 
a road, and if the tourists do not learn to drive 
up this valley after the road is completed it will 
be only another illustration of the dullness of 
the traveling public. This first dash into the 
out-of-the-way mountains produced a great 
exhilaration ; we strolled on through glens and 
gorges, stopping now and then to roll rocks 
into the stream, or resting by some brook that 
tumbled down towards us in pretty cascades, 
and we were inclined to call this Valley of 
Abondance the finest walk known. But the 
following days quite effaced this impression by 
giving us even nobler glens. 

A heavy rain drove us into a sort of chalet. 
the human quarter of which was but one small 
room; the rest belonged to the "gentlemen 
that paid the rent," as we discovered by the 
sounds that reached us. A woman and a 
strange-looking little girl were earing bread in 
goat's milk upon our arrival, and space was made 
for us on two stools and a bench. The Savoy- 
ard is hospitable, will share his bench or his 
loaf with you, but he wastes no force in efforts 
at suavity. His speech is rude and brusk, 
he uses the French with some reluctance, and 
likes better to talk to one of his own kind in 
rv Co. All rights reserved. 


8 04 



the familiar patois of his mountains. The 
woman preferred to stand up that the strang- 
ers might sit, but she answered our questions 
with reserve. The child had the appearance 
of being not more than three or four years of 
age, but she was eleven — a stunted creature 
who was not able to talk until she was nine, 
and who was now learning her alphabet. When 
one reflects on the cretinism of the higher val- 
leys, and sees the hard-toiling peasants whose 
minds are stunted domiciled under the same 
roof with their cattle, one cannot but think that 
there is a level above which man does not 
flourish. This child was exceptional, but such 
exceptions are often seen when one gets above 
the true man-level. 

Contrasting strangely with the extreme bare- 
ness of everything else in the chalet was the 
high old clock in the corner — evidently no or- 
dinary timepiece, for it had a dial in the pendu- 
lum for telling the day of the month, and was 
generally a most aristocratic and learned piece 
of furniture. Poor old clock, with its air of hav- 
ing graced some venerable mansion, by what 
rude fate did it get into a chalet, doomed for- 
ever to look down upon this pine table and 

dirty bed; this yellow dog and 
scurvy cat ; this square-built 
and ill-mannered woman • 
and this dull-eyed, brute- 
faced child ? — doomed to 
hear a hard patois and the 
lowing of cattle, when it was 
meant for the library of a 
scholar, or the quiet, rug- 
covered chamber of some 
valetudinarian old lady ? We 
could not find out its history, 
for the Savoyard is as secre- 
tive as he is brusk. But the 
professor whisked out his 
memorandum book and lead 

pencil, and A took her 

seat in an unsavory corner of 
the chalet and put us all in 
a picture — travelers, peas- 
ants, dog, cat, and clock. 

When at last the rain was 
over we trudged on wearily 
through the mud to the vil- 
lage of Chevenox. The 
" Hotel aux Moutons " had 
a little sign with a sheep on 
it swinging in front. We had 
been warned against this 
place, but so we had also 
against all the inns between 
this and Abondance, and it 
was now eight o'clock in the 
evening with Abondance a 
good nine miles away. There 
was nothing for it but to stop at the Sheep 

As the cows had by this time been sent up 
the mountains it was impossible to get any 
butter except beurre fondu — butter which 
has been melted to keep it for cooking, and 
which is quite unpalatable. At the Sheep 
Hotel one cow remained ; and though we had 
no butter we had cow's milk at night, and by 
the help of a good appetite we ate our supper. 
As for sleeping, it was quite out of the question. 
There is in the mountains a tree-level and, as 
I have said, a man-level, but I have never yet 
discovered any limit of altitude for the flea. 
This cheerful insect is ever with the mount- 
aineer ; in the valleys in winter and in the high 
chalets of the summer he fulfils the end of his 
creation in laboring to overcome the sluggish- 
ness of the peasant. The young girls of the 
party sat up with their heads on a table, the 
professor slept the sleep of the Alpine Club, 
but I meditated all the long night on that 
hardshell preacher who found edification in 
reading from his Bible, " The wicked flea whom 
no man pursueth." 

Just at daybreak, when the sleep of exhaus- 



sjftiilgi ■---8ilii8 


tion began to come over us, two children, 
come down from the mountain perhaps, began 
to call outside the house : " Louison ! Louison ! 
O Louison ! " For more than an hour this call 
for " Louison " was kept up. They even got 
a pole and knocked on the windows of the 
room occupied by the young ladies and the 
insects, calling always, " Louison ! O Lou- 
ison ! " The landlady woke up and scolded 
them, whereupon they lowered their voices 
to an insistent stage whisper and cried still 
for Louison. Who Louison may be I know 
not, nor why she was wanted at that unearthly 
hour, but 1 know that they did not find her. 
She has no doubt gone with Poe's loved and 
lost Lenore, for after their long calling the 
children shuffled away again into the unknown 
regions whence they had emerged. 

The next forenoon brought us a walk through 
a lovely open valley, showing great green slopes 
of pasturage dotted with chalets far up the ma- 
jestic mountain sides. As the season advances 

the peasants drive their herds farther and farther 
up, until in midsummer the highest pasturage is 
reached. The peasant himself migrates to the 
high chalets with his horses and cows, and then 
later in the season, as the uppermost grass is 
exhausted, he retreats terrace by terrace until 
he reaches his sheltered home in the deep \ al- 
ley, where the avalanche shall not find him, and 
where the grass has been made into hay and 
stored in the loft of his habitation by being- 
earned in on the backs of women in huge 
hottes, or baskets worn like knapsacks. Family 
and herd live under the same roof — it is house 
and cheese-factory, stable and barn. The peas- 
ant is essentially a nomad; living with and 
moving with his herds, he sells his cheese ami 
his cattle to buy bread. There is nothing very 
poetic about his lite: his chalets are only sta- 
tionary tents, and he is but another sort oi 
Arab, fencing against frost and mountain 
snows, while the Bedouin lights against heat 
and sandy plains. 1 have heard that the cattle 



like their high pasturage well, and it is quite 
difficult to persuade them to descend until the 
grass is exhausted by much grazing and sum- 
mer drought. Then, as though frightened by 
a famine specter, they go down with irresisti- 
ble eagerness. 

Our road led us through Vacheresse ("Cow- 

these mountains he put the human spirit into 
a jug like the giant in the Arabian story, and 
sealed the vessel with a veritable Solomon's 
seal, which no man has since known how to 
break. But the stupor of the mountains is 
not confined to Catholic regions. 

We reached Abondance a little after midday 


■l lit M'-- K ■ ' ' : » ' ' - IV 




town ") and on along the loveliest of moun- 
tain sides. We were now on the main road 
again, and we found these green mountain- 
flanks well peopled, though most of the peas- 
ants had gone far up with the cattle. We asked 
our way now of a polite country priest, now 
of modest little girls, and again of women suf- 
fering the awful scourge of goiter ; we paused 
to look at the votive wreaths and knickknacks 
deposited before the ghastly images of Mary 
holding a baby Christ, or of a dead Christ, in 
the little shrines by the road-side; we read 
without devotion the lavish promises of in- 
dulgence which Monseigneur the Bishop of 
Annecy had made, by means of little tin signs, 
to all such as should say a given number of 
paternosters and Ave Marias before the ugly 
road-side crosses. To live with the beasts of 
the field and to go on all fours before a des- 
potic but easily cajoled Deity is the hard lot 
of the Savoyard. A Protestant polemic might 
maintain that when St. Francis de Sales 
arrested the progress of the Reformation in 

and staid until the next morning. After our 
experience with " Louison" we were only too 
happy to find good eating and good sleeping. 
The professor and the young ladies went fish- 
ing and did about as well as the enthusiastic 
native fishermen in the Alps do ; that is to say, 
they caught nothing at all. You see many fish- 
ermen in these mountains, but you are happy 
if you see one fish to a hundred fishing-rods. 
Yet we did eat trout at Abondance. There 
came up a shower and the fishing party fled 

into a chalet, where A got a sketch of 

the picturesque interior, and where the peasant 
confided to the professor his purpose to emi- 
grate to America, about which he held very 
confused notions, as that the language spoken 
there was Italian. But he was not much more 
ignorant of America than many of the English 
and Scotch tourists that one meets. 

Abondance was once the seat of a Domini- 
can abbey ; the town was a mere depen- 
dence of the abbey, indeed. The monks were 
driven out in 1793, but the building still stands 



and is in use for communal purposes. The 
cure's residence and the mairie are in parts 
of it. But its beauty has been sadly spoiled. 
The lovely marble pillars and the exquisite 
arches of the cloisters have been broken and 
carried off one by one to prop a stable or to 
finish a wall. This destruction was arrested 
when the building was devoted to public uses, 
and enough remains to show how excellent 
the whole must have been. They were rich, 
these monks, and had more than one monas- 
tery in these fertile valleys ; and if they lived 
well and had great cellars full of wine, they 
served a purpose in keeping alive a love of 
the arts and letters in a besotted age. France 
gained much by sending them off in 1793; 
but something was lost, too, as must always 
be the case in a revolution. It is a hard ne- 
cessity that obliges us to tear down the old 
because the foundations are rotten. No better 
work has been done in America than the aboli- 
tion of slavery ; and yet when I remember the 
exceeding grace of the old Virginia country 
gentleman's life, as I saw it a generation 
a'go, I cannot but feel the hardness of the 
necessity that obliges a revo- 
lution to go to the root and 
to overthrow all the grace and 
dignity that has grown upon 
a false or antiquated founda- 
tion, leaving nothing but a 
rubbish-heap for a new begin- 
ning. The new structure will 
have its beauty, more excel- 
lent than that of the old, no 
doubt, but never just the 
same. Nothing is more ad- 
mirable than a brave and 
necessary iconoclasm, clear- 
ing the field for human pro- 
gress, but nothing is more 

With the early morning 
knapsacks, alpenstocks, hob- 
nailed shoes, and all the other 
appurtenances of an alpine 
party are mustered, and we 
are off for the Col d'Ecuelle. 
Mont la (or le) Grange lifts 
its great barn-like ridge to the sky ; the rising 
mists unveil many fine peaks, among others the 
Cornettes de Bise, or Hornsof the North Wind, 
in plain sight as we take our march up the 
sides of the valley leading towards the col. 
A little girl leaves her goats in the valley to 
show us the path up the mountain. 

Two hours of hot climbing bring us to a 
high chalet in the upper pasture grounds. 
When we four have drunk two quarts of cream 
and offer to pay, the woman will not name a 
price. For an experiment, to see how little 

she will take, I offer her a fifty centimes piece, 
equal to our dime, but she protests that it is 
too much, and is with difficulty persuaded to 
accept it. These are the yet unspoiled peas- 
ants, who have never seen a tourist and to 
whom a franc is a fortune. 

We observe that our little goatherd climbs 
even on moderate and grassy slopes in zig-zag- 
ing; it is the art of the mountaineer, and it is 
thus that the paths are made. This little girl 
seems to be uneasy about her goats; she wishes 
to return. We take directions as to our way, 
and I find on examination that all the small 
change in my pocket is equal to about nine 
cents of our money. Considering that she has 
climbed two thousand feet with us, this seems 
little enough. I pour the coppers into her 
hand, but she makes great eyes and protests 
that I must not pay her, at least not so much. 
Once assured that it is all right she hies swiftly 
and without zig-zags down the mountain, eager, 
perhaps, to tell of her good fortune. 

We journey on up the mountain side, heark- 
ening to the yodling of women who lead their 
flocks on the grassy steeps over opposite to us. 


The goats first and then the cows hasten to fol- 
low when these young women call them with this 
inarticulate song. Oh, it is not love of music, 
nor sentimental attachment to the shepherd- 
esses, that sets every little goat-bell a-tinkling 
and every sweet-toned cow-bell a-ringing when 
the yodle is heard. The prudent herdswoman 
appeals to mercenary, and as one may say culi- 
nary, motives. When once the herd is close 
about her she takes some lumps of rock salt 
from her pocket and gives the cows and goats 
a little treat from her hand, knowing that this 



will make the yodle sweet to their ears the next 
time. Some of the cows wear bells of elegant 
workmanship, the poor peasants spending often 
as much as sixteen francs for a fine-toned bell 
wrought with fleur-de-lis or other emblems. 
The very cows grow proud of their bells, and 
I have heard that when the bell is taken off 
the cow will sometimes refuse to walk at all. 

i sfilSMi 

We are too hungry to stay long in the ruins ; 
at the tavern in the pretty village beyond we 
get a substantial dinner, and have yet some 
hours of daylight. When I have written a let- 
ter I stroll down to the abbey in the evening 
light. I find one of my daughters perched high 
on a broken wall, making a sketch, while the 
other rests in the grass, watched curiously by 


It was just at noon-time that we reached 
the very summit of the eol. The red sashes 
which relieved the dark-blue flannel of the 
feminine walking costumes had been removed 
and the broad red flannel collars turned under, 
lest some monarch of the herd should take 
umbrage at the bright colors. But we had no 
trouble : the friendly women whose cattle 
grazed on the summit gave us milk, the one 
holding the cow by the horns while the other 
milked it ; and the cows troubled us only by 
overfriendliness, snuffing our clothes and smell- 
ing of the little portable pot in which the pro- 
fessor was boiling some chocolate. There is 
no better place for lunch than the summit of 
a col, or pass, where the cool breeze blows 
between the peaks, and where familiar valleys 
and mountains lie behind, ready to disappear 
at your next advance, while a new system as 
yet unexplored is in front. 

Lunch ended we descended the steep lat- 
eral valley, over rubble-stones and morasses, 
until we debouched at last, tired but cheerful, 
into the central valley of the Dranse just where 
it forms a pretty amphitheater, and where stand 
the picturesque ruins of the once rich Abbey 
of St. Jean d'Aulph. 

the peasant children. The never weary pro- 
fessor has gone on a full run many miles down 
the central Dranse to explore its rocky gorges. 
Certainly the side and end walls of the abbey 
which remain are worth a day's walk to see : 
the gothic window is always best when one 
sees it in a ruined building, framing a bit of 
mountain or sky, and especially when one sees 
it in approaching twilight. This abbey has been 
quarried away to furnish materials for the vil- 
lage church, and for other buildings. The dev- 
astation is now arrested, and the walls that 
remain will not be disturbed. There are enor- 
mous wine vaults below, and you may easily 
trace the limits of the garden in which the 
monks walked and ruminated after dinner. 

Our next forenoon brought us to one of our 
objective points, the little Lake of Montriond, 
which lies in a lateral valley at the base of 
cliffs fully two thousand feet high. Here we 
eat our eggs and drink from a bottle of cold 
coffee, while we watch the brooks on the other 
side tumbling headlong down these great cliffs. 
Some go down diagonally, falling now hun- 
dreds of feet and then making shorter leaps, 
thus forming many cascades between the sum- 
mit and the bottom. There is one that breaks 



into spray in its great fall and is quite blown 
away by the wind. The lake is low and no- 
where presents so striking an appearance as 
Lake Taney, which we reached on another ex- 
pedition a week later after a good climb from 
Vouvry. We went directly over a high ridge 
so as to see Lake Taney first a thousand 
feet below us, almost entirely shut in by high 
peaks and walls of rock. But Lake Montriond, 
though it has cliffs on but one side, is quite 
worth a visit, and it may be easily reached in 
a day and by carriage, following the valley of 
the central Dranse all the way from Thonon. 

It was not in our plan, however, to adhere 
to carriage roads. We had heard that there 
was a pass at the head of this valley by 
which one might reach the Val dTlliez ; and 
assured that it was not much traveled, we felt 
all the more eager to cross it. But we could 
find no one who had crossed to Champery by 
this route, and this fact, after many inquiries, 
became ominous. We did not want to go 
away around by Morzin, and over the well- 
worn col, so we pushed on rather blindly up 
the precipitous valley of Montriond. 

However charming cascades maybe to the 
traveler who cools his heated face in their spray 
and rejoices his eyes with the rainbows at their 
feet, they are tiresome to the reader, who 
neither feels the spray, nor sees the rainbow, nor 
hears the sound. We paused long to enjoy 
some of them, though, tramp-like, we did not 
know where we could find a place to rest at 
night. We passed a village of twenty-five 
chalets quite deserted ; the houses with home- 
made wooden locks. In another village there 
was an old woman with a distressful neck left 
as guardian of houses and cabbage-patches. 
Now and then we met a boy carrying some- 
thing in a hotte on his back. He had come 
down from the village above to sell some butter 
perhaps, or maybe to bring some smuggled 


tobacco, for there are the roads of the smug- 
glers. In response to all our inquiries we 
received for answer but one reply — we must 
rest in the chalets of Lynderet ; the col was 
very high and could not be passed that even- 
ing. So, beating steadily up the mule-path, 
we yielded to the conviction that we must 
camp in the chalets, to the great delight of 
the novelty-loving young folks, to the great 
disgust of an old stager such as I have come 
to be. Have I not slept in the straw for a week 
in the Green Mountains, in the spruce boughs 
many a night in the north woods, on hard floors 




Vol. XL.— 106. 




on the frontier, under the " blue lift " on the top 
of Ascutney and elsewhere, and on a buffalo 
robe on the Red River of the North ? And 
did I not pass one awful night in the hotel 
in Cannonsburg, Pennsylvania, when I was 
a lyceum lecturer ? But there comes a time 
in a man's life when the fun has gone out of 
discomfort, and when a man prefers a clean 
bed to one of the other sort. 

We passed yet one other hamlet where there 
was no living thing. All the people and cattle 
had moved a week before to the high village 
of Lynderet, the low-browed chalets of which 
we could now see far above and ahead of us. 
When at last we entered the lofty village, in the 
late afternoon, we paused, as we had been di- 
rected, at the first chalet, where some little 
necessary things were kept for sale, and where 
half a dozen of the village gossips sat sewing 
on stools and logs in front of the door. They 

scanned very curiously our walking costumes,, 
especially the knickerbockers and long hose 
of the professor, and the blue flannel " sailor 
suits," trimmed with red, of the young girls. 
They did not try to restrain their laughter as 
we explained that we wished to sleep in some 
hay-loft ; they offered to find beds for us that 
were ires propre (very clean), but beds we 
did not dare accept. Finding the women very 
frank in speech, I bluntly told them that we 
were afraid of fleas and would like to find a 
place free from them. 

" Oh, we have only been here eight days,"" 
answered the mischievous spokeswoman of the 
party, " and the fleas have not yet had time to 
come to life. But if they trouble you the only 
way is to feed them ! " 

Some of the women looked dull and over- 
worked, but the one who did the talking was 
bright in looks and speech ; and there was one 






other, with a round, sensuous, Italian face and 
very curly hair, who seemed of a race different 
from the rest. There was a coquettish toss to 
her head ; she was pretty and had been pret- 
tier, and she kept looking out of the corners 
of her eyes to see whether she attracted the 
attention of the strangers. 

When we objected to the first chalet shown 
to us the spokeswoman chaffed us with being 
hard to suit, and reminded us that we were in 
the mountains. It is the universal apology 
for all filth and discomfort. I do not remem- 
ber ever to have entered a chalet, black, dirty, 
and smoky as all of them are, without hearing 
the apologetic remark, " Voila les montagties" 
or something equivalent to it. But we found 
a hay-loft at last that seemed passably clean. 

The professor treated the master of the first 
chalet to cigars and his children to bits of 
chocolate. We sat down in the fioorless room 
and ate a supper of black bread, very black 
and heavy, with coffee and a sort of omelette. 
We had large soup plates of earthenware for 
our coffee. We were obliged to finish this in 
order to make room on the same plate for our 
greasy omelette. 

from this room opened a door into the Sta- 
ble where the cow-hells were tinkling; in one 
corner of the room the lire burned on the 
ground floor. There was no hearth or fire- 
place; the smoke ascended lazily to the ceiling, 
through which it passed into a chimney. A 

large wooden crane served to swing the great 
black kettle used in making cheese. This ket- 
tle was stirred from time to time by man or 
w r ife,and the short wooden ladle floated around 
on the milk when not in use. A second room 
in that part of the chalet which stood on posts 
or legs above the ravine, as many of these 
houses do, — a survival perhaps from the old 
lake dwellings, — was floored and contained 
two beds, besides a trundle-bed, one of them 
covered with a bit of rag carpet. We soon found 
that the fleas were not quiescent, and so betook 
ourselves to our hay-loft in another chalet. 

We slept but little. We were in a high, 
lonesome village ; no friend of ours knew where 
we were, and from the sinister hints of a young 
man who taught the little public school in the 
place it was evident that Ave w r ere in a village 
given to smuggling. The high col which we w r ere 
seeking was the frontier between France and 
Switzerland, and particularly favorable to this 
unlawful trade. Just as we were making nests 
in the hay to keep warm, a stone was thrown 
against the chalet, which had no other oc- 
cupants than ourselves. The darkness, the 
prevailing rain-storm, the mischievous stone- 
throwing, were not reassuring. Then, too, we 
had been warned not to descend from the loft 
during the night for fear of a dangerous stallion 
in the lower part of the house. When a father 
has daughters in charge he has at least a sense 
of responsibility. But a philosophical spirit is 
always good. There were for armament four 
stout, sharp-pointed alpenstocks, and as we 
were in for it, there was nothing but to risk 
robbers and fight fleas as cheerfully as possible. 

Tavernier, our host at the chalet where we 






mk h ''' -f, ' '• I'll 

111 l , (1 

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"1, i 

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got our black bread and coffee, was a rather 
handsome, half Italian-looking fellow, with 
large, round, inexpressive eyes, that suggested 
either entire naivete or a bandit-like secre- 
tiveness. From the droll allusions made by the 
schoolmaster in Tavernier's presence to the 
business of smuggling as carried on over these 
mountains, and especially from the latter's 
round-eyed, bovine expression of ignorant in- 
difference, I became sure that he was the chief 
smuggler of the place. The next morning, sat- 
isfied perhaps that we were no spies of the 
Government, he became more communicative 
than he had been, though evidently a little at 
a loss in using French, which he jerked out in 
irregular spurts. The patois in these valleys 
is rather more like Italian, I believe, than it is 
like French ; and even the French which the 
peasants learn is modified by the accent of the 
patois. For example, the French word sentier 
for path is always pronounced with an sh 
sound like the soft c in some Italian dialects. 
I asked Tavernier what that hole in the wall 
behind the flue was for. 

" Pour les chindres \cendres\" 

I cite his answer to illustrate his accent. 
Very likely the hole in the wall is a conven- 
ient place to throw the ashes which accumu- 
late on the earth floor, but if I were a detective 
I should examine the contents of it. 

The peasants in Lynderet, coming from the 
lower villages of this narrow val-ley, are all 
complexly related one to another. Shut in by 

high mountains on each side, they have nat- 
urally married in and in for generations. I 
have not heard that medical men have ever 
asked whether cretinism and goiter — which 
certainly do not come from the water, as once 
believed — maynot spring from these marriages 
of consanguinity. The restraints of the Catho- 
lic Church work very beneficially in such com- 
munities, for the Church discourages marriages 
with first cousins, and our smuggler, who was 
a pious man, assured me that such marriages 
rarely took place. But as the relationships are 
intricate, a double second cousin, with several 
other strains of kinship, might aggregate more 
consanguinity than a first cousin. 

The next morning, which was Sunday, was 
rainy in that saturating way which one finds 
only in places of great altitude. Lynderet was 
a village in the clouds this morning. It was 
quite out of the question for us to spend an- 
other night here ; so we resolved, at all hazards 
of rain and slippery precipices, to cross the 
pass, which, if a fog should rise, would be- 
come dangerous. We had intended to take a 
lad for a guide, but found that there were few 
persons even in Lynderet who knew the way ; 
one of these was our host. It dawned on us 
slowly that the pass was quite untraveled ex- 
cept by smugglers, and that of these the mild- 
eyed Tavernier must be chief. All the town 
was going to church at Montriond, in the val- 
ley of the Dranse, several thousand feet be- 
low, but Tavernier offered to put us in the 
path before he started. Innocent man ! He 
knew as well as we did that such a pass as 
the Col du Cuboret could never be crossed by 
strangers without a guide on a bad morning, 
and he only waited the mention of pay to re- 
linquish his pious intention of going to church. 

After a very light breakfast of very black 
bread and coffee we set out and climbed 
steadily upward for two or three hours. One 
of the most perpendicular mountains in sight 
was covered with grass all the way up its 
steeps. It is in these places, where the grass 
grows horizontally out of the mountain side, 
and where neither cow, goat, nor man can find 
a foothold, that the chamois flourishes. On 
that very mountain side, at the north, the wily 
Tavernier had shot two chamois last year. 

The immediate walls of the pass of Cuboret 
are high, perpendicular, rocky cliffs from which 
the peasants gather jeuifii, some plant, I know 
not what, which the pharmacists buy for two 
francs an ounce. Tavernier, with characteristic 
love of daring and larger gains than the com- 
mon, has gone over these cliffs at the end of 
a rope many times in search of jenipi. Only 
a year ago a poor fellow fell down the dizzy 
cliff at the left and lost his life in the search 
for the highly prized plant. 



When in the chill airs of the higher ground 
we had drunk some cold coffee from the pro- 
fessor's bottle, and eaten some bread from the 
knapsacks, and had made the guide partic- 
ipate in the refreshments, Tavernier, walking 
by my side, let out the fact frankly that he had 
once climbed from the Swiss side of this pass 
laden with two bags of contraband tobacco. 

'■Just here," he said, "my companion and 
myself met two gens d'armes. We ran, but the 
gens d'armes were light and we were burdened. 
I threw away one bag of tobacco and escaped 
across the frontier, and passing round the moun- 
tains came in by the frontier of Morzin. It was 
a great loss to me — thirty-five francs' worth 

softened as it was by rain. The guide trod the 
soft snow down so that the girls might follow 
in his tracks without sinking. I plucked violets 
not far from the snow, and found the hardy little 
Soldanella alpina, which blooms only on the 
high mountains where the snow is melting. My 
specimen I plucked within two feet of the snow. 
That which we feared came upon us. As 
we reached the summit the clouds creeping up 
from the Rhone Valley covered the pass. We 
were obliged to descend the dangerous steep 
in the fog. Hardly were we all on the grassy 
and slippery precipice, where the path is only 
a foothold in the herbage and where the moun- 
tain is virtually perpendicular for hundreds of 


■ mmm 



of tobacco." And the poor fellow's voice fell 
into a plaintive key, but I could not detect the 
least sense of culpability. Smuggling is to him 
only a dangerous pursuit, like chamois shooting 
and the gathering of the jenipi harvest. 

I do not know how high the Col du Cu- 
boret is. I f one may trust the marking of some 
maps it is 7550 feet, say 1300 feet higher than 
our Mount Washington. Certain it is that on 
the day of the summer solstice we found great 
beds of snow tilling the depressions, and we 
many times sank to our knees in its surface, 

feet, than each was seized with a fright about 
the others. [, clinging by hobnails and alpen- 
stock to the dizzy side, was in terror lest the girls 
should fall ; they were frightened lest a vertigo 
should seize me; and the professor was panic- 
stricken for us all. Such shouting to and fro, 
such cautions, directions, reproaches, and coax- 
ings! Only the guide was impassive as ever. 
I lis round, bland face looked as calm as it w ill 
look on the scaffold it he ever should be guillo- 
tined for shooting one of the gens d'armes. 
After a while our descent became less pre- 



cipitous, and we presently emerged from the 
cloud at the Chalet de Pas, where we found 
many cows, and much cheese-making, and all 
the women wearing trousers. These were not 
compromises like the " bloomers " of our re- 
formers of forty years ago, but the real Swiss 
peasant trousers bagging at the sides into pock- 
ets large enough to contain each a bottle of 
wine. It is the custom in some parts of the 
canton of Valais for the women to wear trou- 
sers, not from any reformatory sentiments, but 
simply because it is impossible to go about the 
morass of a barnyard in which their chalets 
are situated in any other clothes. These were 

more than usually intelligent, pleasant-faced 
peasant women, and they gave us white bread, 
which, after our morning walk, was gladly re- 
ceived. That afternoon we reached Champery 
wet, weary, muddy, and hungry, and a beauti- 
ful walk down the Val d'llliez the next fore- 
noon brought us to the railway, and thus to the 
end of our delightful journey, namely, to this 
quaint old " le clos" near Villeneuve, on Lake 
Geneva where I write, looking out of a wide 
gallery at Castle Chillon, and round about me 
at a vineyard of white grapes planted centuries 
ago by the Knights Templars. 

Edward Eggleston. 





and Mrs. Barney 
Williams attracted 
much attention, 
shortly after their 
marriage, as Amer- 
ican stars. The as- 
sociation of the 
Irish boy and the Yankee girl was a novelty, 
and as a dramatic feature strong in contrast. 

Williams had been quite popular even be- 
fore his marriage, and his union with Mrs. 
Charles Mestayer (also very popular), and their 
joint appearance in Irish drama and musical 
farce, was at once a success and placed them 
among the theatrical attractions of the day. 
The laugh of Mrs. Williams was infectious, and 
her droll singing of " Independence Day " 
made it the favorite local song of the time. 
Williams was an effective actor, and his grace- 
ful figure and attractive face made him always 
welcome to his audiences. 

Barney and I were once walking together 
in a heavy shower of rain, and were near his 
own house, where dinner was awaiting us. As 
we reached the gate the Irish girl was discov- 
ered watering the flower-beds in the garden. 
She, like ourselves, was sheltered from the 
storm by an ample umbrella ; but a high wind 
had turned it inside out. With the now use- 
less shelter in one hand and the watering-pot in 
the other she was whirled about like a weather- 
cock in a stiff breeze, and in this helpless con- 
dition was pouring an auxiliary shower on the 
already drenched and dripping plants. Barney 
l Copyright, 1889, by Joseph J 

hailed her reprovingly and demanded to know 
why she was doing such a stupid thing. " Sure, 
sir, ye told me to be after watering the flowers 
every day." " Yes, but not on a rainy day," 
said the master. " Sure, sir," said Biddy, " I 
thought a rainy day was every day as well as 
any other day." " Why, you are drenched with 
the rain," said Barney; " go into the house." " I 
will, sir, indeed," said she ; " for if the posies 
have had enough of it, I am sure I have." 


It is said that John Brougham, who wrote 
the domestic drama of " The Irish Emigrant " 
and had acted the hero with some success, de- 
clared upon seeing John Drew play the part 
that he would never attempt it again. I have 
myself a vivid remembrance of Drew in this 
character. (This gentleman was the father of 
the present John Drew and the husband of the 
distinguished actress who now bears his name.) 
He acted a star engagement under my man- 
agement in Richmond, Virginia, in 1856, ap- 
pearing in a round of Irish characters with 
marked success. I saw him as Handy Andy, 
O'F/anag/ian, and the Emigrant, and his en- 
trance in the last-named character was one of 
those simple, bold, and unconventional effects 
that invariably command recognition from an 
audience, be they high or low, rich or poor, in- 
telligent or ignorant. A simple figure passes 
an open window and pauses for an instant to 
look into the room; then a timid knock. 
" Come in ! " The door slowly opens, and upon 
the threshold stands a half-starved man, 
EFFERSON. All rights reserved. 



hunger in his gaunt form and hollow cheeks, but 
kindness and honesty in his gentle eyes. What a 
pathetic sight is this ! As the character is devel- 
oped through the incidents surrounding it you 
see always the same man, changed only as he 
would be by the circumstances through which 
he passes. There is a sincerity in this kind of 
artistic treatment that wins for it a lasting re- 

his versatility perhaps more 
character I had seen him in. 

than any other 
It was that of a 
young English squire, gay and desperate, 
warm-hearted and profligate, whose condition 
changed from wealth and station to poverty 
and almost to degradation, from the bowling- 
green of the quiet village to the gambling- 
hell of a great city — these vicissitudes of for- 


membrance in the minds of those who have 
witnessed it. To do bright and sparkling things 
that for a moment trick an audience of its 
applause, though they be entirely out of keep- 
ing with a character, is a grave error. With 
whatever variety a character may be treated, 
the audience should feel that it is the same 
man whose different moods are developed by 
the change of his position in the story. I think 
it has been generally conceded that since Ty- 
rone Power there has been no Irish comedian 
equal to John Drew. Power, as a light and 
brilliant actor, with piercing eyes, elegant 
carriage, and polished "school," dazzling his 
audiences like a comet, was undoubtedly un- 
paralleled in his line, but I doubt if he could 
touch the heart as deeply as did John Drew. 
We were afterwards together in Philadel- 
phia; he played Sir Lucius CT Trigger with 
me in "The Rivals," Mrs. Drew appearing 
as Lydia Languish. 'There was one part that 
he acted during this brief engagement which 
made a strong impression upon me, and revealed 

tune being brought upon him by his own care- 
less nature, which passed from gay to grave, 
deeply touched by the misfortune of others and 
reckless of his own. Drew's treatment of this 
character, though it was not widely known, 
won for him great admiration from his artistic 


Miss Cushman was a prominent figure in 
the dramatic history other day — tall and com- 
manding in person, with an expressive face 
whose features might have been called plain 
but for the Strength and character in them. 
She was self-educated, and had consequently 
stored her mind with just the sort of material 
that would serve to develop it. The most oil 
tivated society of England and America de- 
lighted to entertain her, and her hospitality 
and kindness to Americans who visited her 
during her sojourn in Italy won for her the 
esteem and gratitude of many rising young 
artists, whom she took great pleasure in bring- 



ing into notice. Her dramatic career was a 
long and brilliant one, and in the legitimate 
drama she was more prominent than any other 
actress of her time. 

The nearest approach to Miss Cushman was 
Mrs. Warner. Her face was classic and there 
was a grace and majesty in her presence that 
was very charming, but in force and fire Miss 
Cushman far outshone her English rival. She 
had great tact in society, being perfectly at 
ease and making every one else so. Her fac- 
ulty for either entertaining or being entertained 
was remarkable. She could do all the listening 
or all the talking, whichever was the most 
agreeable to her guest. As Lady Macbeth and 
Queen Catherine she was regal from head to 
foot, but her most popular character with the 
public was Meg Merrilies in " Guy Manner- 
ing." As Scott's heroine critics objected to her 
extravagant acting and the liberty she took in 
standing aloof from the character in the novel, 
and in her re-creation of the Meg. As I have 
been guilty of the same thing, it will not do for 


me to complain. But be this as it may, her act- 
ing was amazingly effective, and that quality 
covers a multitude of dramatic sins. She was 
witty and agreeable, with an immense flow of 
animal spirits, and I never met her without hav- 
ing a good laugh, either at our own expense 
or that of somebody else. She had a warm 
heart, and her charities were very numerous. 


Before Charlotte Cushman reached the 
height of her popularity the leading tragic 
actress of America was Mrs. A. Drake. She 
was an accomplished woman, and during her 
whole life held an enviable position both on 
and off the stage. When a boy of sixteen I 
acted with her the page Cyprian Gossamer in 
"Adrian and Orrilla." She taught me the 
business of the part with great care, coming 
to the theater an hour before the rehearsal so 
as to go over the scenes with me before the 
actors assembled. She had a queenly bearing, 
and was, during her dramatic reign, undoubt- 
edly the tragic muse of America. Her son, 
some years ago, knowing that I had a great 
regard for his mother, gave me three letters 
which relate to theatrical matters in general, 
and to Mrs. Drake in particular. I shall there- 
fore take the liberty of inserting them here. 
They have never been published before ; and 
as two of them are from John Howard Payne, 
the author of " Home, Sweet Home," and 
the other is from Washington Irving, they 
cannot fail to be interesting. One of Mr. 
Payne's letters is to Daniel O'Connell, 
the great Irish statesman, introducing 
Mrs. Drake to his notice. 

Louisville, Kentucky, Sept. 4, 1832.. 
John Miller, Esq_., 

Agent for the American Legation, London. 

My dear Sir : As you are well versed in 
theatrical affairs, 1 would ask your advice and 
services for Mrs. Drake, an American lady who 
is about to try her fortunes on the London 
boards. You may already have heard of her 
success in the United States. I have merely had 
the pleasure of witnessing her powers one 
evening, in the Widow Cheerly( 1 ' The Soldier's 
^ Daughter "), and the part of Mary in the ' ' Maid 
of the Inn" ; but from those specimens am led 
to form a very high opinion of her talents both 
in the serious and comic lines of the drama. I 
cannot but think that, if she has a fair chance, 
she will make a very favorable impression on 
the London public. 

A personal acquaintance with Mrs. Drake 
has still more interested me in herself and her 
fortune; and 1 shall feel it as a kindness to 
myself if you would do anything in your power 
to facilitate her views in England. 

With kindest remembrances to Mrs. Miller, 
Yours very truly, 

Washington Irving. 

New York, May 20, 1833. 
Dan'l O'Connell, Esq., M.P., London. 
(Hand by Mrs. Drake.) 
My dear Sir: A lady of the highest standing 
both as a gentlewoman and an actress — Mrs. Drake 
of the Western region of our Western World — visits 
Europe and intends to make a professional experi- 



flifflBWffW '.", ■ ■ 


merit in London. I have thought I could greatly 
serve her and gratify you by making you known 
1o each other ; and as Mrs. Drake will probably 
visit Ireland, 1 shall consider any attention she may 
receive there through you as a compliment from 
you to our republic, as will my countrymen. 
Mrs. Drake is one of the few among us who are 
allowed by Mrs. Trollope to possess first-rate talent; 
and the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, in his Travels, 
speaks of her with more enthusiasm than even Mrs. 
Trollope. 1 prefer, for reasons which I need not 
name, giving you upon this subject the opinions 
Vol. XL.— 107. 


of foreigners, especially of such as are supposed 
to be rather prejudiced against us. 

I write in great haste, being apprised o( the de- 
parture of Mrs. Drake for England only as 1 am 
myself departing for the Southern States of Amer- 
ica. I can only add how infinitely I shall feel 
obliged by any attention it may be in your power 
to oiler Mrs. Drake. She travels in company with 
a particular friend of hers, Mrs. White, who (with 
her husband, a member of the United States Con- 
gress for Florida, Colonel White) is desirous of 
seeing Europe. Should you meet them you may 



wonder a little that a part of the world so recently 
a wilderness should produce such poor specimens 
of savageness and unrefinement. 

With best and most grateful remembrances to 
Mrs. O'Connell and all your family who may still 
bear me in recollection, believe me, my dear sir, 
with great respect, 

Your obliged and faithful friend and servant, 

J. Howard Payne. 

New York, 67 Varick St., 
Hudson Square, Oct. 20, 1833. 
My dear Mrs. Drake : You will doubtless think 
me most ungallant in having so long omitted to 


answer your kind letter of July 1 . But be assured 
the neglect has not been of the mind, for I have 
often thought and spoken of you and always in- 
tended to write to you — to-morrow. The to-mor- 
row is now here; but whether it will guide my 
remembrance to you is a question which it would 
delight me to find answered speedily in the affirma- 
tive by your own fair hand. 

My attention since I heard from you has been 
entirely taken up by the project of a new periodical 
1 am preparing: Mr. Hyde, of Schenectady, obliges 
me by conveying you a prospectus. I must have 
five thousand subscribers before 1 can start, and as 
yet the names come in slowly. People seem aston- 
ished by the plan, and still more by giving two 
guineas for literature ! I have only about 230 of 
the five thousand as yet, but 1 mean to persevere. I 
have great hopes from the Western States, and should 
be most happy to confer with you upon some plan 
for taking the warm hearts you tell me of there by 
storm. The scheme is one I am much devoted to, 
and surely a nation like this ought to yield from 
her whole population five thousand supporters 
for such a project. I mean to travel through the 
United States myself, and in each place send out a 
person to solicit names. It is humiliating enough 
to have to solicit even by a second person ; but if 
no other names offer, I will do it by myself rather 
than fail. I shall take Albany, of course, on the 
way ; but when, is yet uncertain. I am very desir- 
ous, however, of ascertaining as early as may be 
what chance that good city offers me ; and Mr. Hyde, 
who is a worthy and enthusiastic young man, a stu- 
dent of Union College and the editor of a magazine 
published there, has most handsomely undertaken 
to try what he can do towards the increase of my 
list. I have desired him to see you, and to get 
your advice. The ladies are the best friends, after 
all, and not only know how these things ought to 
be managed, but can point out the readiest way of 
giving their knowledge effect. 

May 1 hope you will favor me with a line very 
soon, mentioning what you are about and whether 
I can be of any use to you in return for the com- 
mission with which I am troubling you. 
Yours in haste, 

Most faithfully, 
Mrs. Drake. J. Howard Payne. 

These simple letters from two gifted and 
delightful men attest not only Mrs. Drake's 
dramatic qualities but her private worth. 
And it is a pleasure and a privilege to publish 
them, and so revive the memory of an honor- 
able and talented lady. Had they 
/ been commonplace letters of introduc- 
tion from unknown people I should not 
have intruded them on the reader; 
but as it is I feel sure that no apology 
is needed for their insertion. 

A little incident connected with the meeting 
of Mrs. Drake in Louisville has been brought 
to my recollection while I have been writing 
of her. There is nothing particularly interesting 
about it except that it has a humorous side,and 
I cannot resist the temptation of noticing it here. 




We had at that time a lady attached to our 
company who was a great character. Her thirst 
for autographs was unquenchable, and I have 
never seen a more perfect specimen of the fe- 
male lion-hunter. She knew most of the celeb- 
rities in the country, and always kept on hand 
a large assortment of introductory letters ready 
for presentation at the shortest notice. This 
is an innocent kind of pastime, and if it does 
no good it certainly does no harm. 'This lady 
had a weakness for not remembering names. 
This was singular, too, as half her time was 
employed in the work of collecting them ; but 
they seemed to revenge themselves for their 
imprisonment in her album by escaping from 
her memory, and it was comical to observe 
the woe-begone expression of her face when 

she related some of her unfortunate mistakes. 
" It is so dreadful, my dear," she would say, 
"to commit these blunders; and there is no 
excuse for them. Just imagine my being intro- 
duced to a gentleman by the name of Smith 
and callimi him Mr. Montgomery five minutes 

Of course she was anxious to meet an inter- 
esting lady like Mrs. Drake, and, armed with 
an introduction which I gave her, called on 
the retired actress, hoping that she would be 
able to collect some theatrical matter for a 
book that she was writing, and desiring to get 
the much-prized, but rather conventional, 
actor's autograph with a Shaksperean quota- 

In due time Mrs. Drake returned the call 




and was ushered into the large parlor of the 
Gait House, where a number of ladies and 
gentlemen were assembled to pay their re- 
spects to the lion-hunter. Mrs. Drake was 
distinguished for a majestic bearing at all 
times, and any ceremonious occasion would 
naturally intensify her dignity. The tragedy 
queen was therefore with more than usual loft- 
iness led into the center of the apartment and 
introduced by her hostess as Mrs. Duck. A 
slight titter of quiet mirth rippled over the as- 
sembled company as Mrs. Drake glared with a 
reproving " Lady Macbeth eye " at the nervous 
little hostess, who was so overcome with mor- 
tification that she burst forth with, " Oh, I beg 
your pardon; I mean Mrs. Goose." This of 
course settled it. 

In dealing freely, and I hope fairly, with 
the players of the past, I have, for obvious 
reasons, refrained from passing judgment on 
the actors of the present. I belong to the lat- 
ter group, and have therefore no right to crit- 
icize it. 

There are many both in England and 
America that I would be pleased to praise 
and praise highly, but in doing this I should 
tacitly censure others, and this is not my 
mission. The first group has passed by, but 
we are before the public, which alone has the 
right to pass its judgment. Besides, actors 
are not by any means the best judges of act- 

ing : we have our prejudices, which naturally 
bias fair criticism ; and in referring to the past 
history of the stage I find that all actors of 
genius and originality have given great offense 
to the conventional school that their brilliancy 
disturbed. Quin said of Garrick, " If he is 
right then we are all wrong " ; the Kembles 
were shocked at the fire of Edmund Kean; 
and so it has gone on, and will continue in 
the future. 

Original painters seem to suffer still more 
than actors, and I honestly believe it is be- 
cause artists are at the heads of the academies, 
where they sit in judgment and at times de- 
nounce the work of an original painter, refusing 
to hang his picture because he has had the 
courage to be unconventional. Corot and Mil- 
let were for years refused admittance to the 
Salon, and are striking proofs of the unfairness 
or prejudice of their brother artists ; and it is 
quite likely if actors and authors sat in judg- 
ment on their kind that many original actors 
and authors would be tabooed ; but fortunately 
the great public gets at them first and praises or 
condemns unbiased by professional jealousies. 

The painter has no such advantage. Before 
his work can reach the public it must be filtered 
through the judgment of his brother artists of 
the Academy. If they are conventional,— an 
they generally are, — he is doomed to obscuritys 
Corot was fifty years old before his work was. 
honored by a place in the Salon, and he did 
not sell a picture until he was past that age. 
After the first sale had been made the dear 
old man said to his friends, " Well, I have 
sold a picture ; but I am sorry for it, for now 
my collection is incomplete." 


Naturally other members of my profession 
have given as much consideration to matters 
connected with their art as I have, and per- 
haps more. It is therefore likely that a few 
may think as I do, many may differ with me 
entirely, and possibly some may not have 
thought about the matter at all. 

If I err I shall be glad to throw off my 
preconceived ideas and adopt other, better, 
and newer methods. In fact, I have already 
discarded many pet theories, and, as I have 
grown older and more experienced, have been 
taught by my own observations and the suc- 
cessful achievements of others that there is 
always room for reform. 

Acting has been so much a part of my life 
that my autobiography could scarcely be 
written without jotting down my reflections 
upon it, and I merely make this little prepara- 
tory explanation to apologize for any dogmatic 
tone that they may possess, and to say that I 



present them merely as a seeker after truth in 
the domain of art. 

In admitting the analogy that undoubtedly 
exists between the arts of painting, poetry, 
music, and acting, it should be remembered 
that the first three are opposed to the last, 
in at least the one quality of permanence. 
The picture, oratorio, or book must bear the 
test of calculating criticism, whereas the work 
of an actor is fleeting : it not only dies with 
him, but, through his different moods, may 
vary from night to night. If the performance 
be indifferent it is no consolation for the au- 
dience to hear that the player acted well last 

of dullness is easily made, but in a theater the 
auditor is imprisoned. If the acting be indif- 
ferent, he must endure it, at least for a time. 
He cannot withdraw without making himself 
conspicuous ; so he remains, hoping that there 
maybe some improvement as the play proceeds, 
or perhaps from consideration for the com- 
pany he is in. It is this helpless condition 
that renders careless acting so offensive. 


I have seen impulsive actors who were so 
confident of their power that they left all to 



night, or to be told that he will act better to- 
morrow night ; it is this night that the public 
lias to deal with, and the impression the actor 
has made, good or bad, remains as such upon 
the mind of that particular audience. 

The author, painter, or musician, if lie be 
dissatisfied with his work, may alter and per- 
fect it before giving it publicity, but an actor 
cannot rub out; he ought, therefore, injustice 
to his audience, to be sure of what he is go- 
ing to place before it. Should a picture in an 
art gallery be carelessly painted we can pass 
on to another, or if a book fails to please us 
we can put it down. An escape from this kind 

chance. This is a dangerous course, espe- 
cially when acting a new character. 1 will ad- 
mit that there arc many instances where great 
effects have been produced that were entireh 
spontaneous, and were as much a surprise to 
the actors who made them as they were to 
the audience that witnessed them; but just as 
individuals who have exuberant spirits arc at 
times dreadfully depressed, so when an impul- 
sive actor fails to receive his inspiration he is 
dull indeed, and is the more disappointing be- 
cause of his former brilliant achievements. 

In the stage management of a play, or in 
the acting of a part, nothing should be left to 




(from a photograph by WALKER & SONS.) 

chance, and for the reason that spontaneity, 
inspiration, or whatever this strange and de- 
lightful quality may be called, is not to be 
commanded, or we should give it some other 
name. It is, therefore, better that a clear and 
unmistakable outline of a character should 

warmth of passion in tragedy and the 
sudden glow of humor in comedy cover 
the artificial framework with an im- 
penetrable veil : this is the very climax 
of great art, for which there seems to be 
no other name but genius. It is then, and 
then only, that an audience feels that it 
is in the presence of a reality rather than 
a fiction. To an audience an ounce of 
genius has more weight than a ton 
of talent; for though it respects the 
latter, it reverences the former. But 
the creative power, divine as it may 
be, should in common gratitude pay 
due regard to the reflective; for Art 
is the handmaid of Genius, and only 
asks the modest wages of respect- 
ful consideration in payment for her 
valuable services. A splendid torrent 
of genius ought never to be checked, 
but it should be wisely guided into the 
jjjp deep channel of the stream, from whose 
dfi| surface it will then reflect Nature with- 
jjjjp out a ripple. Genius dyes the hues 
jjjp that resemble those of the rainbow ; 
jjpl Art fixes the colors that they may 
^p stand. In the race for fame purely 
§^( artificial actors cannot hope to win 
m against those whose genius is guided 
HII by their art; and, on the other hand, 
Intuition must not complain if, un- 
bridled or with too loose a rein, it 
stumbles on the course, and so allows a well- 
ridden hack to distance it. 


Very numerous rehearsals are not always 

be drawn before an actor undertakes a new necessary to attain perfection; on the con- 
part. If he has a well-ordered and an artistic trary, it is the quality, not the quantity, that is 
mind it is likely that he will give at least a important. Tedious preparation day after day 
symmetrical and effective performance ; but will sometimes pall upon a company of actors, 
should he make no definite arrangement, and who, wearied by constant repetition, lose the 
depend upon our ghostly friends Spontaneity freshness with which their performance should 
and Inspiration to pay him a visit, and should be given ; and that quality once lost is seldom 
they decline to call, the actor will be in a regained. It is in vain for a manager to argue 
maze and his audience in a muddle. that he pays the actor for his time and atten- 

Besides, why not prepare to receive our mys- tion. He has a perfect right to these, certainly; 

terious friends whether they come or not ? If but the feeling and enthusiasm with which the 

they fail on such an invitation, we can at least time and attention should be given he can no 

entertain our other guests without them ; and more command than he can alter the human 

if they do appear, our preconceived arrange- nature of his company. 

ments will give them a better welcome and put Just as an early impression is the most in- 

them more at ease. delible, so the first rehearsal is the most im- 

Acting under these purely artificial con- portant, and, being so, should never be called 

ditions will necessarily be cold, but the care until the author and the stage manager shall 

with which the part is given will at least have fully digested their plans and thoroughly 

render it inoffensive ; they are, therefore, pri- understand what they intend to do. This 

mary considerations, and not to be despised. The course not only saves labor but begets the 

exhibition, however, of artistic care does not respect of the company, who feel that their 

alone constitute great acting. The inspired time will not be wasted and that they are 



in the hands of patient and conscientious 

It is the time-honored excuse of some actors 
that they cannot study a part until they have 
rehearsed it, forgetting that it is not possible to 
rehearse properly until they are perfect in the 
words. A part certainly is more easily studied 
after a rehearsal of it; but I am not discuss- 
ing ease, remember, but propriety. How can 
we watch the action and progress of the play if 
our eyes are bent upon the book ? It is merely a 
bad habit, and one that has grown out of a de- 
sire that some people have to shirk their duty ; 
being naturally inclined to procrastination, they 
shelter themselves under this weak and con- 
ventional excuse. 

Usually the scenery and properties of a play 
are brought into requisition during the later 
rehearsals, and are increased in detail till they 
culminate at the last rehearsal. This is work- 
ing from the wrong direction. It is at the 


first rehearsal that these adjuncts should be 
used, and if they are not ready, substitutes 
should be put in their places; for if the set 
of the scene, the chairs, tables, and other me- 
chanical arrangements, are placed upon the 
stage for an initial rehearsal, the manager and the 
actors know then and ever afterwards where 
to find them and how to arrange their group- 
ings, exits, entrances, and stage business in 
accordance with the position of these useful 
materials; but if, after all the stage business 
has been arranged, the company suddenly find 

at the last rehearsal that chairs, tables, seats, 
etc. are met upon the stage in unexpected 
places, they become obstacles to the actors in- 
stead of adjuncts. 

I do not mean to say that the entire busi- 
ness of a play can be arranged at the first re- 
hearsal. New ideas continually crop up during 
the early stages of preparation which upon 
consideration may be more valuable than the 
original ones, and actors may have suggestions 
to make the effect of which had not struck the 
author. But while a good general shows his 
genius best when dealing with an emergency, 
he does not disdain to plan the battle before the 
action takes place. 

Better have no rehearsal at all than one that 
is long, rambling, and careless : a clearly cut 
and perfectly defined outline gives precision 
and finish to the work. If it were possible the 
pantomime and action of a play should reveal 
its meaning to an audience without the aid of 
dialogue ; this would give force to the language, 
and enable those who do not catch all the 
words to comprehend their full meaning. 

An audience should understand what the 
actors are doing if it does not hear all that 
they are saying. It is eager to do this, and quite 
competent if we only give it a fair opportunity ; 
but inarticulate delivery and careless panto- 
mime will not suffice. 

We must not mistake vagueness for sug- 
gestion, and imagine that because w T e under- 
stand the matter we are necessarily conveying 
it to others. Sheridan, in his extravaganza of 
"The Critic; or, a Tragedy Rehearsed," gives 
a humorous illustration of this error. During 
the rehearsal of Mr. Puff's play the charac- 
ter of Lord Burleigh enters, walking slowly 
and majestically down to the footlights. The 
noble knight folds his arms, shakes his head 
solemnly, and then makes his exit without say- 
ing a word. 

"What does he mean by shaking his head 
in that manner? " asks Mr. Dangle^ a theatri- 
cal critic. 

To which Mr. Puff replies: "Don't you 
know? Why, by that shake of the head he 
gave you to understand that even though they 
had more justice in their cause and more wis- 
dom in their measures, yet, if there was not a 
greater spirit shown on the part of the people, 
the country would at last fall a sacrifice to the 
hostile ambition of the Spanish monarchy." 

"Did he mean all that by shaking his 
head?" asks Mr. Dangle. 

To which Mr. ruff replies, "Yes, sir: if he 
shook it as 1 told him." 

As this satire was written over a hundred 
years ago, it is quite evident that the vanity 
of vagueness is not a new histrionic develop- 



And here the quality of permanence as al- 
lied to the other arts and not to acting presents 
itself. If we do not at first understand a great 
picture, a fine piece of music, or a poem, these, 
being tangible, still remain ; so, should we de- 
sire it, we can familiarize ourselves with them, 
and as we grow older and become more highly 
cultivated we will understand a school of art 
that was at first obscure. But there must be 
no vagueness in acting. The suggestion should 
be unmistakable; it must be leveled at the 
whole audience, and reach with unerring aim 
the boy in the gallery and the statesman in the 


A reminiscence of some forty years ago 
will serve to illustrate the value of careful 
preparation at rehearsal. 

The production at Burton's Theater of 
" Dombey and Son," dramatized by Mr. 
Brougham, was a curious combination of fail- 
ure and success. Much was expected of Bur- 
ton's Captaiti Cattle, and to the surprise of the 
expectant critics and of Burton himself he did 
nothing with it. Brougham was equally dull 
as the two B's, Bunsby and Bagstock. The hit 
of the piece, at least on its first production, was 
made by Oliver Raymond as Toots. This gen- 
tleman had been previously an obscure actor, 
but on making a success in a play wherein 
Burton had failed, he came to the front at 
once and was the lion of the hour. 

Burton's failure as Cuttle was easily ac- 
counted for. He had studied the character 
carelessly, and not only was imperfect in the 
text but had been absent from many of the 
rehearsals, relying too much upon his great 
powers and the spontaneity of his dramatic 
resources. He was usually able to command 
them, but during the first run of this piece 
they played him truant. Dismayed at his own 
failure and mortified at young Raymond's 
success, the manager took the drama from 
the bills and substituted another programme. 
Not satisfied with Brougham's adaptation, — 
for the novel had been badly dramatized, — 
he and the adapter worked together to recon- 
struct the play. 

The great comedian now set himself seri- 
ously to work on the character, perfecting 
himself in the words, and amplifying the part by 
the introduction of stage-business and by-play. 
In this kind of ingenious elaboration he was 
a master, and clearly proved it on the revival 
of the discarded play. His performance was 
in magnificent condition when I witnessed it, 
and who that ever saw Burton as Captain 
Cuttle, Mariner can ever forget it ? What ex- 
pression ! what breadth ! what humor ! and 
what tenderness ! 

Vol. XL.— 108-109. 

In the scene with Floi'ence Do?nbey where 
he is trying to reveal to her that her lover, sup- 
posed to be drowned, was rescued, he sits awk- 
wardly shifting his position from side to side, 
puffs his pipe and tells his tale, letting the story 
go from him little by little and hauling it back 
lest the joyful tidings should be too great a 
shock, his fat face drawn down with serio- 
comic emotion, his eyes protruding in a sol- 
emn, stupid stare, and his utterance choked 
with tears that seem to force themselves out 
and mingle with the smoke. As the door bursts 
open and the returned lover clasps his sweet- 
heart in his arms the captain jumps from his 
seat, cocks his tarpaulin hat over his eyes, folds 
his arms tightly, and, trying to whistle a tune, 
bursts into tears and dances a sailor's hornpipe 
around the loving couple. I had heard of his 
missing the part at first; but he was in the 
height of his triumph when I saw the perform- 
ance, and it was amazing to see into what a 
superb success he had elaborated a failure. 

If any proofs were wanting that an actor, 
no matter how great, should arrange the me- 
chanical details of his work before he presents 
it to the public, the failure and ultimate suc- 
cess of Burton's Captain Cuttle offer sufficient 
evidence. Here stood an actor to whom 
dramatic genius was universally accorded. 
Yet even he had been taught a lesson, and 
learned not to place too much confidence in 
the spur of the moment. 


Much has been written upon the question 
as to whether an actor ought to feel the char- 
acter he acts, or be dead to any sensations 
in this direction. Excellent artists differ in 
their opinions on this important point. In dis- 
cussing it I must refer to some words I wrote 
in one of the early chapters of this book : 

The methods by which actors arrive at great ef- 
fects vary according to their own natures ; this ren- 
ders the teaching of the art by any strictly defined 
lines a difficult matter. 

There has lately been a discussion on the 
subject, in which many have taken part, and 
one quite notable debate between two dis- 
tinguished actors, one of the English and the 
other of the French stage. These gentlemen, 
though they differ entirely in their ideas, arc, 
nevertheless, equally right. The method of 
one, 1 have no doubt, is the best he could 
possibly devise for himself; and the same may 
be said of the rules of the other as applied to 
himself. But they must work with their own 
tools; if they had to adopt each other's they 
would be as much confused as if compelled to 



exchange languages. One believes that he 
must feel the character he plays, even to the 
shedding of real tears, while the other prefers 
never to lose himself for an instant, and there 
is no doubt that they both act with more effect 
by adhering to their own dogmas. 

For myself, I know that I act best when 
the heart is warm and the head is cool. In 
observing the works of great painters I find 
that they have no conventionalities except 
their own ; hence they are masters, and each 
is at the head of his own school. They are 
original, and could not imitate even if they 

So with acting, no master-hand can pre- 
scribe rules for the head of another school. If, 
then, I appear bold in putting forth my sugges- 
tions, I desire it to be clearly understood that 
I do not present them to original or experi- 
enced artists who have formed their school, 
but to the student who may have a tempera- 
ment akin to my own, and who could, there- 
fore, blend my methods with his preconceived 


On the discovery of a mysterious murder, 
when all are at a loss as to who has committed 
the deed, the first thing the detective searches 
for is motive. If the murderer be not insane 
a motive must exist; and as the actions of our 
lives, when we are in a state of reflection and 
cool deliberation, spring from this cause, so 
must the playwright, in the construction of 
his plot and the action of his characters, give 
us motive. 

Again, an audience should never be kept 
in the dark as to the true state of all mat- 
ters connected with the play, particularly in 
comedy. Let the characters be deceived and 
entangled in a perfect labyrinth of difficulties 
if you will, but the audience must know just 
how the matter stands, or they cannot enjoy the 
confusion of the actors. For example, in " She 
Stoops to Conquer," when young Marlow 
makes love to Miss Hardcastle he thinks that 
she is the barmaid, but the audience know 
perfectly well that she is not ; hence they en- 
joy his mistake. If they had not been let into 
the secret the effect would be lost; but an 
" equivoke " scene, wherein both characters 
are deceived as to each other's identity, is the 
most enjoyable, and requires perhaps more in- 
genuity in its construction than any other 
branch of writing in comedy. Such a scene, too, 
must be rendered with great skill and the most 
perfect seriousness : if a smile should steal over 
the actor's face, showing that he inwardly sees 
the humor of the situation, the whole effect will 
be lost. The bewilderment of the characters 
must be supreme, and as the scene progresses 

and they become more and more entangled 
their blank looks of amazement delight the 
audience, who alone are in the secret. 


The supremacy in both the writing and act- 
ing of comedy has been for many years accorded 
to the French stage. My opinion upon this 
subject will be of little value. An American 
comedian acting only in the English language 
could scarcely speak with confidence on this 
subject unless he understood and spoke the 
French language as well as the French actors 
themselves. In tragedy the matter would be 
quite different. The expressions of love, jeal- 
ousy, hate, revenge, pride, madness, or despair 
are so pronounced in tragedy that we can judge 
of their intensity and effect in any language. 
Comedy has but little to do with the violent ex- 
hibition of these passions. Its effects are more 
subtile, and depend much upon minute detail, 
accompanied by slight but most important in- 
flections of the voice, and by delicate panto- 
mime. No one not thoroughly and practi- 
cally acquainted with the French language 
could offer a fair opinion upon French acting. 
I can only say that I saw much of French 
comedy in France and was delighted with it. 
Its grace and finish were quite perfect, and in 
acting their comedy I should say that the come- 
dians were exceptionally fine; but, with all their 
excellence, there is one glaring fault which I 
think I may venture to express condemnation 
of, no matter in what language it occurs, and 
which I think they could hardly themselves 
defend — I mean the unnatural trick of speaking 
soliloquy and side speeches directly to the 
audience. We should &oX.for the audience, not 
to the audience. To appeal every now and then 
to the front of the theater for recognition is an 
exhibition of weakness. An actor who cannot 
speak a speech with his back to the audience 
when the situation demands it has much to 
learn. As soon as we acknowledge the presence 
of the public we dispel its attention and ruin its 
enjoyment. We were forced to do this in the 
days when we were his Majesty's servants, and 
when it was considered disrespectful to turn our 
backs on royalty. How absurd to see a courtier 
present a document at the foot of the throne 
in the play and sidle up the stage with his back 
to the mimic king because the real article is 
in the royal box ! 


We have, I think, a natural tendency to 
dignify the events of the past beyond their 
deserts, and so we often throw a glamour of ex- 
cellence over departed actors which we would 



not accord to them if they were here. This, 
of course, is erring upon the safe side. The 
only danger is that our reverence may at times 
cause us to disparage the good qualities of 
those who are among us. Dramatic affairs, 
too, have undergone a change that renders 
a fair judgment almost impossible. For in- 
stance, the actors of, say, forty years ago 
rarely visited the smaller cities : they were 
concentrated in the larger ones ; but now the 
demand for dramatic excellence is so great, 
and the facilities for travel are so extended, 
that the same amount of talent is diffused all 
over the world ; so we are apt to fancy that it 
does not exist because it is not with us. If all 
the great actors of to-day were concentrated 
into a few companies, as was formerly the case, 
we would be amazed at the entertainment 
they would give us. 


Dramatic instinct is inherent throughout 
the human family. Savages, even of the low- 
est type, are never so enthusiastic as when they 
indulge in ceremonies representing death and 
destruction. They will start upon an ideal 
warpath, suddenly stopping to scalp an imag- 
inary enemy. The New Zealanders, who both 
physically and intellectually are far above the 
ordinary savage, are excellent in pantomimic 
action. They will even act scenes and crudely 
represent historical traditions of their tribe. 

Watch the little boy in frocks — not two 
years old. If you would delight him, fold a 
piece of paper into the shape of a cocked hat, 
pop it on his head, then give him a stick, and 
in a moment the little fellow will straighten 
up and begin to march about, pretending that 
he is a soldier. If, in another year, you supply 
him with a shovel and a wheelbarrow, you will 
see him trudge off, joining others of his own 
age who are building embankments or digging 
canals, and calling one another by names that 
do not belong to them, acting and pretending 
that they are somebody else. A group of little 
girls will not have been in the room together 
twenty minutes before one will play lady as if 
she had just called, and another pretend she is 
the hostess, and the smallest of all act mother 
and nurse her doll with loving care. After a 
time the grown-up people in the room will draw 
one another's attention to this little drama, and, 
not wishing to interrupt the play, will quietly 
nudge their neighbors and nod approvingly. 

The lawyer often clears his guilty client by 
depicting the sorrow of a family who will be 
stricken down with grief if the jury should con- 
vict. The influence of the stage has crept into 
the pulpit, which to-day contains some of the 
finest actors of our time. 

Here, then, we have evidence not only that 
this dramatic instinct pervades all classes 
of humanity, but that its possessors insist 
upon displaying their artistic qualities. And 
the encouragement of this desire is as uni- 
versal as the gift; for theaters, opera houses, 
lecture rooms, and churches all over the world 
are filled with eager audiences anxious to wit- 
ness any, and all, brilliant dramatic achieve- 
ments. The demand, too, is increasing. Half 
a century ago there were but few good theaters 
in America, and even these were badly lighted, 
poorly heated, and indifferently appointed. 
In many of the small towns the only places 
used for dramatic entertainments were the 
dining-rooms of the hotels, from which, after 
tea, the tables were removed and the chairs set 
back that the play might be acted. Now, in 
nearly all of the new and rising cities, the thea- 
ter or the opera house is centrally located ; and it 
is generally the finest building, both in point of 
size and architecture, to be seen — heated with 
steam, lighted by electricity, and provided 
with every comfort. Within these temples 
actors, opera singers, minstrels, and ministers 
hold forth, and the same audience goes to hear 
them all. 

The desire for dramatic entertainment has 
resolved itself into a tidal wave that nothing 
can stop, particularly as there is no desire to 
impede it. It has not the fleeting character of 
a political movement that might change with 
the new influence of the next Administration ; 
it belongs to no party ; it is born of no sect ; 
but it is the outcome of a universal passion. 

I think it is generally conceded that imita- 
tors are seldom fine actors, though they are 
usually great favorites with the public. I con- 
fess that I enjoy the exhibitions of this kind 
of talent exceedingly. There is something very 
attractive and even strange to see one man 
display the voice, manner, and expression of 
another — particularly if that other be not 
yourself. We may enjoy the imitation of our 
dearest friends, but our smiles vanish and 
our faces elongate if the mimic attempts 
to give a " counterfeit presentment " of the 
party of the first part. I have heroically tried 
on several occasions to enjoy imitations of 
myself, but have never succeeded. These in- 
genious transcripts contain a slight touch of 
ridicule that always offends the original. An 
anecdote of Mr. Buckstone, the English come- 
dian, will serve to illustrate what I have said. 
He was an actor whose mannerisms were so 
marked that they infused themselves through 
all the characters he played. He was undoubt- 
edly humorous, or, more properly speaking, 
funny; but whether he acted Sir Andrew 
Aguecheek or Cousin Joe he seemed to have 
no power of embodying the character — ren- 



dering each of them with the same voice, man- 
ner, and attitude; consequently, he was an 
admirable subject for imitation. 

At the close of a dinner party he had been 
given to understand that there was a person 
present who gave an excellent imitation of 
himself. Buckstone at once desired the gentle- 
man to let the company have a test of his 
quality. The gentleman politely declined, 
saying that he might give offense; but the 
comedian would not let him off, insisted on 
the exhibition, and, rubbing his hands to- 
gether with great glee, settled himself down 
for unlimited enjoyment. The imitator, see- 
ing that there was no escape, arose, and amid 
breathless silence began. His hit was im- 
mense, and as he sat down the guests broke 
forth in loud laughter and applause : the 
whole table was in a roar of merriment ; every 
one was in ecstasy except Buckstone, who 
looked the picture of misery. 

" Well, Mr. Buckstone," exclaimed a wag, 
who was quietly enjoying the comedian's dis- 
comfiture, " don't you think the imitation very 
fine ? " 

" It may be," he replied, " but I think I 
could do it better myself." 

Acting is more a gift than an art. I have 
seen a child impress an audience by its nat- 
ural grace and magnetism. The little creature 
was too young to know what art meant, but 
it had the gift of acting. The great value of 
art when applied to the stage is that it en- 
ables the performer to reproduce the gift, and 
so move his audience night after night, even 
though he has acted the same character a 
thousand times. In fact, we cannot act a char- 
acter too often, if we do not lose interest in 
it. But when its constant repetition palls on 
the actor it will as surely weary his audience. 
When you lose interest — stop acting. 


This loss of interest on the part of the actor 
may not be visible in the action or pantomime; 
but unless care and judgment are observed it 
will assuredly betray itself in the delivery of 
the language, and more particularly in the 
long speeches and soliloquies. In dialogue 
the spirit of the other actors serves to stimulate 
and keep him up ; but when alone, and unaided 
by the eye and presence of a companion, the 
old story fails to kindle the fire. An anecdote 
of Macready that I heard many years ago 
throws a flood of light upon this subject ; 
and as I think it too important a one to re- 
main in obscurity, I will relate it as I got it 
from Mr. Couldock, and then refer to its in- 
fluence upon myself and the means I used to 

profit by it. The incident occurred in Bir- 
mingham in England some forty years ago. 
The narrator was present, and naturally listened 
with interest to a conversation upon art be- 
tween two such able exponents of it as Mr. 
Macready and Mrs. Warner. What they said 
referred to an important scene in the tragedy 
of " Werner," that had been acted the even- 
ing before. 

Mr. Macready, it seems, had much respect 
for Mrs. Warner's judgment in matters relating 
to the stage, and desired to consult her on the 
merits and demerits of the preceding evening's 
performance. As nearly as they can be remem- 
bered, his question and her reply were as 
follows : 

" My dear madam," said Macready, " you 
have acted with me in the tragedy of ' Werner ' 
for many years, and naturally must be very fa- 
miliar with it, and with my manner of acting that 
character. I have noticed lately, and more 
particularly last evening, that some of the pas- 
sages in the play do not produce the effect that 
they formerly did. There is a certain speech es- 
pecially that seems to have lost its power. I 
allude to the one wherein Werner excuses him- 
self to his son for the ' petty plunder ' of Stral- 
enheim's gold. In our earlier performances, 
if you remember, this apology was received 
with marked favor, and, as you must have ob- 
served, last evening it produced no apparent 
effect. Can you form any idea why this should 
be ? Is it that the audience has grown too 
familiar with the story ? I must beg you to 
be candid with me. I shall not be offended 
by any adverse criticism that you may 
make, should you say that the fault is with 

" Well, Mr. Macready, since you desire that 
I should speak plainly," said Mrs. Warner, " I 
do not think that it is because your audience 
is too familiar with the story, but because you 
are too familiar with it yourself." 

" I thank you, madam," said Macready ; 
" but how does this mar the effect of the 
speech ? " 

" Thus," said Mrs. Warner. " When you 
spoke that speech ten years ago there was a 
surprise in your face as though you then only 
realized what you had done. You looked 
shocked and bewildered, and in a forlorn way 
seemed to cast about for words that would 
excuse the crime ; and all this with a depth of 
feeling and sincerity that would naturally come 
from an honest man who had been for the first 
time in his life accused of theft." 

" That is as it should be given," said Mac- 
ready ; " and now, madam ? " 

" You speak it," said his frank critic, " like 
one who has committed a great many thefts 
in his life, and whose glib excuses are so pat 



and frequent that he is neither shocked, sur- 
prised, nor abashed at the accusation." 

" I thank you, madam," said the old actor. 
" The distinction may appear at first as a nice 
one, but there is much in it." 

When I heard the story from Mr. Couldock 
it struck me with much force. I knew then 
that I had been unconsciously falling into the 
same error, and I felt that the fault would in- 
crease rather than diminish with time if I could 
not hit upon some method to check it. I began 
by listening to each important question as 
though it had been given for the first time, 
turning the query over in my mind and then 
answering it, even at times hesitating as if for 
want of words to frame the reply. I will ad- 
mit that this is dangerous ground and apt to ren- 
der one slow and prosy; in fact, I was accused, 
and I dare say quite justly, of pausing too 
long. This, of course, was the other extreme 
and had to be looked to, so that it became 
necessary that the pauses should, by the man- 
ner and pantomime, be made sufficiently 
interesting not to weary an audience; so I 
summed it up somewhat after the advice of 
Mr. Lewes — to take time without appearing 
to take time. 

It is the freshness, the spontaneity, of acting 
that charms. How can a weary brain pro- 
duce this quality ? Show me a tired actor and 
I will show you a dull audience. They may 
go in crowds to see him, and sit patiently 
through his performance. They have heard 
that he is great, they may even know it from 
past experience ; so they accept the indifferent 
art, thinking perhaps that they are to blame 
for a lack of enthusiasm. 

Pantomimic action, unless it is in perfect 
harmony with the scene, is fatal to the effect 
of a delicate point. If the situation be a vio- 
lent one, such as the preparation for battle in 
" Richard," or where Hamlet's uncle rises from 
his seat in the play scene, dismissing the au- 
dience, the situation being pronounced and the 
action strong, indifferent pantomime upon 
the part of the actors might not be noticed in the 
bustle and excitement. But, to exemplify my 
meaning, let us take a point where the audience 
is called upon, not for enthusiastic applause, but 
for rapt attention ; where the situation is so 
subtile that the head bowed slowly down, or 
a movement of the eye, will reveal the mean- 
ing. Now, at this critical point, if one of the 
actors should even remove his hat, or unmean- 
ingly shift his position, he will destroy the ef- 
fect. The finer the acting the more easily it is 
destroyed, just as a scratch will disfigure a pol- 
ished surface that would not show on the face 
of a cobblestone. 

The audience cannot look in two places at 
once ; the eye is such a tyrant that it distracts 

from the subject " then necessary to be con- 
sidered," directing the attention to a useless 
and intrusive movement. The value of repose 
is so great that it is difficult to estimate it. 

At rehearsal the amateur, having finished 
his speech, invariably asks of the stage-mana- 
ger what he should do next. As soon as he 
ceases to be the interesting figure he should 
observe the action of the other characters ; 
this is the most natural by-play, and the least 
likely to do harm. It acts like the distance in 
a picture, that, by being subdued, gives strength 
to the foreground. But the tyro is generally 
fearful that he will fail to attract attention, 
whereas obscurity instead of prominence may 
at that time be the more desirable. To do 
nothing upon the stage seems quite simple, 
but some people never acquire this negative 

For instance in " The Rivals " it is David's 
speech that terrifies Acres. How could an 
audience get the full value of what David says 
if they were looking at the face of Acres ? 
The two characters would conflict with each 
other, and so rob the picture of clearness. 
But if Acres here will subdue his personality 
and sink, as it were, into the background, 
the audience will get the full force of what 
David says, and become as perfectly satu- 
rated with its meaning as Acres himself. Now 
see how fully they are prepared to receive 
the expression of fear from the latter. After 
David's scene is over, Acres has the audience 
at his full command — the slightest sugges- 
tion from him is taken up at once. They 
know his character and realize his position as 
vividly as he does himself; it is because they 
have had the full and uninterrupted ben- 
efit of the previous scene. If, during David's 
speech, I, as Acres, show my face to the au- 
dience or pull out my handkerchief and weep, 
I might gain a temporary advantage, but I 
should weaken David, and in the end mar the 
effect of my own character; and, believe me, 
an audience is always grateful to an actor who 
directs its attention the right way. The trav- 
eler thanks the truthful finger-post, but never 
forgives the rascal who has misdirected him. 

Nothing in art is more distressing" than to see 
an actor attract the attention of the audience, 
from an interesting point in the performance, 
by the introduction of some unimportant by- 
play. At times this is done from ignorance, 
but, I regret to say, often through jealousy. 
This unfair spirit reflects back upon the guilty 
party, for the public resent it quietly while the 
offender least suspects it: their enjoyment has 
been marred, and the obnoxious cause of it 
has only consoled them by a display of un- 
meaning activity ; they refuse this rubbish and 
inwardly mark the individual who has had the 

8 3 o 


impertinence to offer it. But as two pigs un- 
der a gate make more noise than one, it is still 
worse to see a pair of ranters or a couple of 
buffoons trying to outdo each other. There is 
but one recompense ; they are both self-slaugh- 
tered in the conflict, 

As two spent swimmers, that do cling together, 
And choke their art. 


Many instructors in the dramatic art fall 
into the error of teaching too much. The pupil 
should first be allowed to exhibit his quality, 
and so teach the teacher what to teach. This 
course would answer the double purpose of 
first revealing how much the pupil is capable 
of learning, and, what is still more important, 
of permitting him to display his powers un- 
trammeled. Whereas, if the master begins by 
pounding his dogmas into the student, the lat- 
ter becomes environed by a foreign influence 
which, if repugnant to his nature, may smother 
his ability. 

It is necessary to be cautious in studying elo- 
cution and gesticulation, lest they become our 
masters instead of our servants. These neces- 
sary but dangerous ingredients must be ad- 
ministered and taken in homeopathic doses, or 
the patient may die by being overstimulated. 
But, even at the risk of being artificial, it is 
better to have studied these arbitrary rules 
than to enter a profession with no knowledge 
whatever of its mechanism. Dramatic instinct 
is so implanted in humanity that it sometimes 
misleads us, fostering the idea that because 
we have the natural talent within we are 
equally endowed with the power of bringing 
it out. This is the common error, the rock 
on which the histrionic aspirant is oftenest 
wrecked. Very few actors succeed who crawl 
into the service through the " cabin windows " ; 
and if they do it is a lifelong regret with them 
that they did not exert their courage and sail 
at first "before the mast." 

Many of the shining lights who now oc- 
cupy the highest positions on the stage, and 
whom the public voice delights to praise, 
have often appeared in the dreaded character 
of omnes, marched in processions, sung out 
of tune in choruses, and shouted themselves 
hoarse for Brutus and Mark Antony. 

If necessity is the mother of invention, she 
is the foster-mother of art, for the greatest ac- 
tors that ever lived have drawn their early 
nourishment from her breast. We learn our 
profession by the mortifications we are com- 
pelled to go through in order to get a living. 
The sons and daughters of wealthy parents 
who have money at their command, and can 

settle their weekly expenses without the assist- 
ance of the box office, indignantly refuse to 
lower themselves by assuming some subordi- 
nate character for which they are cast, and 
march home because their fathers and mothers 
will take care of them. Well, they had better 
stay there ! 

If Edmund Kean had been rich the chances 
are that he would never have submitted to 
the insults of the manager and some of the 
actors during the memorable rehearsal at 
Drury Lane Theater. He would perhaps have 
broken his engagement and retired from the 
stage in disgust; but half starved and thread- 
bare, his loved wife and child living in a garret, 
he had a noble motive to stimulate his power, 
and I believe that Kean on the night of his 
first appearance in London was a greater ac- 
tor than he had ever been before. His situa- 
tion was desperate, and aroused the slumber- 
ing genius within him. The whole history of 
that eventful night impresses one with the idea 
that he was himself surprised at what he did. 
Fitzgerald, in his admirable " Romance of the 
English Stage," says that " Kean had a gallant 
confidence in himself all through." There is 
nothing in the story that implies this. He had 
courage, no doubt, or he could not have made 
the effort ; but it was fitful and uncertain. 
Genius is seldom confident. Fitzgerald him- 
self quotes the last words Kean said as he 
left his house for the theater. " He kissed his 
wife and infant son, and muttered, ' I wish I 
were going to be shot.' " There is no confi- 
dence in these terrible words. They show the 
brave nature of the man because he was not 
confident. Who can say how fervently he may 
have prayed as he trudged through the dark, 
wet streets, with a beating heart and a nervous 
foreboding of disaster in the approaching trial ? 
His hit was tremendous, and, when the mana- 
ger congratulated him on his wonderful suc- 
cess, in Kean's own description of the event 
he said, " The pit rose at me." This sounds 
confident, I admit ; but the remark was made 
after the battle was won. 

The whole picture is more interesting and 
truthful when we view the man as being fully 
alive to the danger of the situation and appre- 
hensive lest the invisible genius within him 
should fail to appear. When this mysterious 
influence, which comes unbidden, burst forth at 
the theater that night, the public were amazed, 
the critics stunned, and Kean himself was sur- 
prised. No intellectual effort could have cre- 
ated this effect. The source of genius is in the 
soul ; it seldom aims at the brains of the au- 
dience, but oftener shoots at their hearts through 
its own. It shrinks from assuming the arro- 
gance that commands attention, and modestly 
invites it. 



But whether you are rich or poor, if you 
would be an actor begin afrthe beginning. This 
is the old conventional advice, and is as good 
now in its old age as it was in its youth. All 
actors will agree in this, and as Puff says, in 
" The Critic," " When they do agree on the 
stage the unanimity is wonderful." Enroll your- 
self as a " super " in some first-class theater, 
where there is a stock company and likely to 
be a periodical change of programme, so that 
even in your low degree the practice will be 
varied. After having posed a month as an in- 
nocent English rustic, you may, in the next play, 
have an opportunity of being a noble Roman. 
Do the little you have to do as well as you can ; 
if you are in earnest the stage-manager will 
soon notice it and your advancement will be- 
gin at once. You have now made the plunge, 
the ice is broken ; there is no more degradation 
for you ; every step you take is forward. 

A great American statesman said, " There is 
always plenty of room at the top." So there 
is, Mr. Webster, after you get there. But we 
must climb, and climb slowly too, so that we 
'can look back without any unpleasant sensa- 
tions; for if we are cast suddenly upon the 
giddy height our heads will swim and down 
we shall go. Look also at the difficulties that 
will beset you by beginning " at the top." In 
the first place, no manager in his senses will 
permit it; and if he did, your failure — which 
is almost inevitable — not only will mortify 
you, but your future course for some time to 
come will be on the downward path. Then, 
in disgust, sore and disheartened, you will retire 
from the profession which perhaps your talents 
might have ornamented if they had been 
properly developed. 


While acting once in Boston I received a 
note from the publisher of " The Atlantic 
Monthly," to know if I would call at the pub- 
lishing house to meet Mrs. Harriet Beecher 
Stowe. It seems the lady had been at the 
theater where I had acted the night before, 
and in a note to the publisher had expressed a 
desire to see me. We had a long and, to me, 
very pleasant chat. In speaking of her visit 
to the theater she said she was struck by the 
scene in which Rip Van Winkle meets with his 
daughter, and that it reminded her of the situ- 
ation between Lear and Cordelia. I told her 
that the scene was undoubtedly modeled on 
the one from Shakspere, and perhaps the 
white hair and beard floating about the head 
of the old Knickerbocker had some share in 
this likeness. She said she was sure that 1 
could play Lear. I was sorry to differ with a 

lady, but I told her I was quite sure that I 
could not. 

Shortly after this I met another lady of equal 
intelligence who seemed much interested in 
Rip Van Winkle. Among the many questions 
she asked of me was how I could act the char- 
acter so often and not tire of it. I told her that 
I had always been strangely interested in the 
part, and fearing that I might eventually grow 
weary of it, I had of late years so arranged 
my seasons that I played only a few months 
and took long spells of rest between them ; but 
that my great stimulus, of course, was public 
approval, and the knowledge that it must cease 
if I flagged in my interest or neglected to give 
my entire attention to the work while it was 

" Another question, please. Why don't you 
have a dog in the play ? " 

I replied that I disliked realism in art, and 
realism alive, with a tail to wag at the wrong 
time, would be abominable. 

" But don't you think that the public would 
like to see Schneider ? " 

" The public could not pay him a higher 
compliment, for it shows how great an interest 
they take in an animal that has never been 
exhibited. No, no ; ' hold the mirror up to na- 
ture,' if you like, but don't hold nature up — a 
reflection of the thing, but not the thing 
itself. How badly would a drunken man give 
an exhibition of intoxication on the stage ! 
Who shall act a madman, but one who is per- 
fectly sane ? We must not be natural, but ap- 
pear to be so." 

" One question more, and I have done. 
Why do you not refuse the cup that Gretche)i 
offers you at the end of the play ? " 

To which I replied : " Should Rip refuse 
the cup the drama would become at once a 
temperance play. This subject has both its 
adherents and its opponents, and has, more- 
over, of late become a political question. The 
action would have a local and even a modern 
flavor. I should as soon expect to hear of 
Cinderella striking for high wages or of a speech 
on woman's rights from old Mother Hubbard 
as to listen to a temperance lecture from Rip 
Va?i Winkle ; it would take all the poetry and 
fairy-tale element completely out of it. 1 
would prefer that the impression on the audi- 
ence as the curtain falls should be suggestive. 
so that they might terminate it in a manner most 
agreeable to themselves. Let us not suppose 
in the end that Rip and his wife get ill, send 
for the doctor, take pills, and die, but that they 
sit like Darby and Joan by the fireside and 
eventually go up the chimney in the smoke. If 
1 Rip Van Winkle ' had been treated in a realis- 
tic manner it never would have Lived so long." 

What is called the moral drama is artificial 

8 3 2 


and insincere, and I doubt if it ever taught a 
wholesome lesson. Mr. Gough's mission was a 
different one from mine. In his entertainment 
he announced himself as a temperance lec- 
turer. The audience were prepared to hear and 
approve of his views. In my case it would be 
a deception to announce a play and preach a 
sermon, and the very people who ask for it 
would consider it an impertinence if it had 
been gratuitously offered. 

The beautiful lessons contained in many of 
the plays of Shakspere are not thrust upon 
the audience. They are so delicately suggested 
that the listener takes the splendid truths and 
hugs them to his heart. The great dramatist 
does not stand forth and dogmatically expound 
his views on acting, but mark with what mod- 
esty he shows us the way to tread. One of his 
characters, Hamlet, has a play, and with kind 
consideration takes aside the actors who are 
to perform it and tells them how he would 
have his play delivered. These simple in- 
structions, of not more than a dozen lines, 
contain the whole art of acting; the player need 
go no further for instruction; those who en- 
tangle themselves in a labyrinth of arguments 
over the proper or improper way of rendering 
plays or characters can settle all their disputes 
by this little speech. 

Again, Polonius does not sermonize his au- 
dience. As his only son is leaving home, the 
youth kneels at his father's feet and asks a 
blessing: who would not wish that his son 
should go through life freighted with such pre- 
cepts ? These are the lessons that Shakspere 
has taught us, and this must surely be the way 
to teach them. So it would seem that Shak- 
spere, in giving his lessons to the world, is like 
a kind father who when his son has been 
guilty of a grave offense, instead of storming 
at him in a temper, waits until the wrong is 
half forgotten, and then when they are the 
best of friends takes the little fellow on his 
knee and tells him for his own sake what he 
would have him do. 


Realism and idealism are important factors 
in the dramatic art. No one, I think, will 
question the fact that imagination has given 
us the highest dramatic compositions, and 
that it enters largely into the best form of 
acting ; and there is a strong belief that the in- 
troduction of realism into plays of a highly po- 
etical character often goes far to weaken their 
effect. We are told, by an authority that no one 
seems inclined to dispute, that the judgments 
of the judicious " should outweigh a whole 
theater of others " ; but then who are in this 
case the " judicious " ? May it not be the many 

instead of the few ? That manager is un- 
questionably the most useful who entertains 
the greatest number when he does not de- 
grade them, and certainly there is no degra- 
dation in the realistic productions in question. 
So the matter stands just where it did : the 
audience must decide which it prefers, and the 
actor must consider how far these introduc- 
tions may assist or mar his work. 

It was my good fortune during the earlier 
part of my dramatic career to add the romantic 
story of " Rip Van Winkle " to my repertoire. 
I was attracted by the poetic nature of the 
legend, and endeavored to treat it in harmony 
with that feature. After acting it for many 
years I had various suggestions made to me 
for elaborating the spectacular and scenic ef- 
fects of the play, among which was the in- 
troduction of several fat old Knickerbockers 
smoking their long pipes and quarreling in 
Dutch, a large windmill with the sails to work, 
dairymaids with real cows, mechanical effects 
for the sudden and mysterious appearance and 
disappearance of Hendrik Hudson's crew, 
and in the last act the Continental army with 
drums and fifes, a militia training, and the in- 
troduction of patriotic speeches about Ameri- 
can independence. 

So unreal a theme could not have been in- 
terwoven with all this realism without marring 
the play. If I were a stage-manager and 
were producing a plain, matter-of-fact nautical 
drama, where the characters are mere com- 
monplace, everyday people, I would exert all 
my ingenuity in the invention of realistic ef- 
fects. The ship should be perfectly modeled, 
the masts round, the sails canvas, and the coils 
of rope of undoubted veracity. On the village 
green I would place cottages built out and 
thatched with veritable straw, and the gar- 
lands of roses that hung from the May-pole 
should perfume the auditorium, if Lubin's ex- 
tract of new-mown hay could do the business ; 
but I should hesitate before I placed smoking 
hot joints on the banquet tables of " Mac- 
beth." It does seem out of place that the 
audience should have their nostrils saluted 
with the odor of baked meat while they are 
gazing at the awful ghost of " the blood-bolt- 
ered Banqao" According to this view of the 
subject, realism should halt before it trenches 
upon or vulgarizes the effect of a poetical play. 


One more curious incident occurs to me 
connected with this play. 

There is in the village of Catskill a Rip 
Van Winkle Club. This society did me the 
honor to invite me to act the character in 
their town. I accepted, and when I arrived 



was met by the worthy president and other 
members of the club, among whom was young 
Nicholas Vedder, who claimed to be a lineal 
descendant of the original " old Nick." Emu- 
lating the spirit of evolution, the citizens had 
turned the skating-rink into a theater, and a 
very respectable-looking establishment it made, 
though in its transition state the marks of 
rollers did " cling to it still." I was taking a 
cup of tea at the table in the hotel when I 
was attracted to the colored waiter, who was 
giving a graphic and detailed account of this 
legend of the Catskill Mountains to one of 
the boarders who sat nearly opposite to me. 

"Yes, sah," he continued; "Rip went up 
into de mountains, slep' for twenty years, and 
when he come back hyar in dis berry town his 
own folks did n't know him." 

" Why," said his listener, " you don't be- 
lieve the story 's true ? " 

" True ? Ob course it is. Why," pointing at 
me, " dat 's de man." 

The town was filled with farmers and their 
wives who had come from far and near to see 
the opening of the new theater, and also, I 
think I may say, to see for the first time the 
story which Washington Irving had laid al- 
most at their very doors. 

As I drove to the theater the rain came 
down in torrents, the thunder rolled and the 
lightning played around the peaks of the dis- 
tant mountains under the very shadow of 
which I was to act the play. It gave me a 
very strange sensation. When I got to the 
theater I could scarcely get in, the crowd was 
so great about the door — countrymen trying to 
get into the ticket office instead of the proper 
entrance, and anxious and incredulous old 
ladies endeavoring to squeeze past the door- 
keeper but refusing to give up their tickets. The 
rush over, the play began. The audience was 
intent on the scene as it progressed and seemed 
anxious not to lose a word. During the 
scene in the last act where Rip inquires of the 
innkeeper, " Is this the village of Falling 
Water ? " I altered the text and substituted the 
correct name, " Is this the village of Cats- 
kill ? " The crowded house almost held its 
breath. The name of the village seemed to 
bring the scene home to every man, woman, 
and child that was looking at it. From this 
time on the interest was at its full tension. 
Surely I had never seen an audience so struck 
with the play before. 

There was a reception held at the club after 
the play, and the worthy president in intro- 
ducing me to the company was so nervous 
that he announced me as " Mr. Washington 

If I dwell at length upon so old a subject 
as this well-worn drama it is not only because 

the play and its hero were important to me, 
but for the reason that there are incidents 
connected with its career from which a lesson 
may be drawn ; and while I do not aspire to 
be a teacher of art or set myself up as a Sir 
Oracle, or a finger-post to point out the road 
to dramatic success, I cannot resist the desire 
I have to give some of my young friends on 
the stage a few hints in relation to the conduct 
of their professional lives that may be useful 
even if they are dry and uninteresting. 

The rules that would seem to promote suc- 
cess upon the stage are so shifting and at times 
so inscrutable that the most diligent and ex- 
perienced actors often stand amazed at the 
disappointing results which have attended hon- 
est and intelligent labor. I have known mem- 
bers of the theatrical profession who, though 
possessed of great ability and an untiring in- 
dustry, have never met with one cheering suc- 
cess, and I have seen novices come upon the 
stage, knowing nothing of dramatic art and 
possessed of no talent whatever, startle the 
public, and command its attention at once, 
and all this from the mere exhibition of youth, 
beauty, and confidence. This latter kind of 
popularity, however, is not lasting, nor does it 
ever revive after it has once lost its power, 
and here is just the point in question : an ephem- 
eral success is worse than no success at all, 
for all the feverish flattery and hollow applause 
that may have attended it in the beginning 
cannot atone for the disappointment that fol- 
lows upon neglect. The once petted favorite 
sinks under the desolation which comes from 
public indifference. A legitimate and well- 
earned success is almost perennial, if pursued 
by the artist to the end with the same love of 
his work that characterized its beginning. 

" Rip Van Winkle " was not a sudden suc- 
cess. It did not burst upon the public like a 
torrent. Its flow was gradual, and its source 
sprang from the Hartz Mountains, an old 
German legend, called " Carl the Shepherd," 
being the name of the original story. The gen- 
ius of Washington Irving transplanted the tale 
to our own Catskills. The grace with which 
he paints the scene, and, still mere, the quaint- 
ness of the story, placed it far above the origi- 
nal. Yates, Flackett, and Burke had separate 
dramas written upon this scene and acted the 
hero, leaving their traditions one to the other. 
I now came forth, and saying, "Give me 
leave," set to work, using some of the before- 
mentioned tradition, mark you. Added to this, 
Dion Boucicault brought his dramatic- skill to 
bear, and by important additions made a bet- 
ter play and a more interesting character of the 
hero than had as yet been readied. This adap- 
tation, in in}' turn, I interpreted and enlarged 
upon. It is thus evident that while 1 may have 



done much to render the character and the 
play popular, it has not been the work of 
one mind, but both as to its narrative and its 
dramatic form has been often molded, and 
by many skillful hands. So it would seem 
that those dramatic successes that "come like 
shadows, so depart," and those that are lasting, 
have ability for their foundation and industry 
for their superstructure. I speak now of the 
former and the present condition of the drama. 
What the future may bring forth it is difficult 
to determine. The histrionic kaleidoscope 
revolves more rapidly than of yore and the 
fantastic shapes that it exhibits are brilliant 
and confusing ; but under all circumstances I 
should be loath to believe that any condi- 
tions will render the appearance of frivolous 
novices more potent than the earnest design 
of legitimate professors. 


The plantation I purchased in Louisiana 
was at one time the property of a prominent 
Spaniard named Carline, to whom it had 
been granted when the State was under the 
dominion of Spain. He had made his selec- 
tion with considerable judgment, as the large 
tract that had been ceded to him contained 
an island of two hundred acres, which stood 
at an elevation of about ninety feet above the 
sea and was covered with grand live-oak and 
magnolia trees. When it passed from Carline 
it fell into the hands of an old Scotchman 
named Randolph, who was, from all accounts, 
as sagacious as the Spaniard. He added to the 
beauty of the island by planting it with pecan 
and orange trees, which were in full bearing 
when I purchased the place. 

It is currently reported by the peasantry of 
this section that Captain Lafitte, who was also 
quite celebrated under the high-sounding title 
of " The Pirate of the Gulf," often visited the 
island. This hero's virtues have been extolled 
in a romantic novel, several love songs, and 
a bad nautical drama ; and history has in some 
measure tried to elevate him beyond the aver- 
age of mankind because he refused the over- 
tures of General Pakenham and joined the 
forces of General Jackson at the battle of New 
Orleans. But the truth is, that the captain had 
plenty of money ; the British bribe possessed no 
fascinations for him, as the United States Gov- 
ernment had set a price upon his head ; and 
there is consequently a slight suspicion that 
self-preservation and not patriotism induced 
him to cast in his lot with America. He was un- 
doubtedly a highly cultivated bucaneer, and 
having with care and industry amassed a large 
fortune by robbing his fellow-men, he retired 
from business in the prime of life and secluded 

his virtues under the shade of Mr. Randolph's 
peaceful orange groves. It is said that he be- 
came so stung with remorse at the retrospect 
of his piratical career that he eventually atoned 
for his crimes by going into the slave trade. It 
is further hinted that the gallant captain made 
this place his headquarters in the summer. 
The cares of piracy and slave stealing would 
naturally in time undermine the constitution 
of a sensitive nature, and it was therefore 
necessary that during the heated term — an 
unpleasant season for the latter business — 
he should require time for recuperation and 
an opportunity to hide his treasures. It is 
said that he generally performed this cere- 
mony in the moonlight assisted by his gallant 
band, who were sworn to secrecy, and, being 
men of honor, could of course be depended 
upon. It being a foregone conclusion that 
this story is true, it was natural that I should 
have been warmly congratulated when I be- 
came the rightful owner of all this ill-gotten 
gold — that is, if we ever find it. I have never 
looked for it myself. In the first place I have 
never had time, and in the next I really 
am afraid that I should not find it. I wish 
the rest of the community were as skeptical 
of its presence as I am, for then they would 
stop disfiguring the shore around the lake and 
digging holes under every tree upon which 
some mischievous fellow has cut a cross. 
Nothing has been discovered so far except an 
old long-bladed knife, of a size and shape quite 
convenient for pirating, and a silver dollar; 
but as the latter was coined in 1829, it is quite 
evident that Lafitte was buried first, so it could 
not have been his property. These treasure- 
seekers have periodical attacks of this insan- 
ity, like the same class of idiots who ruin the 
clam business on Long Island by digging up 
the shore in hopes of discovering the treasures 
of the late lamented Captain Kidd. 

The scenery and villages along the Bayou 
Teche have for years been famous for their 
romantic beauty, and the fine islands — on one 
of which we live — are still a mystery to the geol- 
ogists who have examined them. Of course 
they all have their theories, but I fancy that 
they differ in their opinions. One of these 
beautiful spots is called Salt Island, and is 
owned and occupied by the Averys, a charm- 
ing and hospitable family, who have lived there 
for many years, and who are the owners of the 
celebrated salt mine which the place contains. 
It is a weird and beautiful cavern. Arch after 
arch stretches far away; looking down the 
dark and gloomy avenues one is amazed at the 
inexhaustible deposit, and when it is artificially 
lighted up millions of crystals flash and sparkle 
with wondrous splendor. 

Five miles from this charming place is our 



island. During the first eight years of our South- 
ern journeys the beaten track of commonplace 
travel ended at Brashear, which was then the 
terminus of the railroad. Here we used to get 
on board of a little stern-wheel boat, so small 
that contrasted with the leviathan Texas 
steamers anchored in the bay it looked like 
a toy. Our route lay westward up the Bayou 
Atchafalaya to where it met the Bayou Teche. 
This is the point where Gabriel and Evange- 
line are separated in Longfellow's poem. 

Our passage up the Teche was extremely 
picturesque. The stream is narrow, and the live- 
oak and cypress trees stretch their branches 
over it till in places they fairly meet and inter- 
lock. When the darkness came on pine knots 
were burned in the bow of the boat, and 
as she steamed up the narrow river a strong 
light fell on the gaunt trees that suddenly 
started out of the black night like weird 
specters. The negro deck-hands, some bare 
to the waist and others in red and blue shirts, 
would sit in lazy groups chanting their plan- 
tation songs, keeping perfect time with the 
beat of the engine. It was delightful to light 
a pipe and sit on the deck, to look upon the 
novel scene and listen to these strange sounds, 
to feel that the season had closed, and to antici- 
pate three months of perfect rest — no letters 
to write, no engagement to keep, no dreadful 
appointments hanging over one's head ! 

As I have been living here for the past 
eighteen winters there is naturally among the 
peasantry, both white and black, some curi- 
osity as to the precise nature of my vocation. 
The town near us has had no theater or hall 
of any kind until lately, so that the only pub- 
lic amusements with which they are familiar 
have been confined to the circus. 

The country people know me very well, and 
it is a mystery to them what I can possibly do 
in a " show," as they call it. One day I had been 
out duck shooting and was being paddled slowly 
along the bayou in a canoe by my " man Fri- 
day," a colored boy about eighteen years of 
age. As a rider of buck-jumping ponies he 
was a wonder either with or without a saddle, 
and the perfect ease with which he handled 
a canoe made him invaluable as a guide. He 
would dip the paddle deep into the stream 
and with a firm and steady hand move the 
boat with great speed, and yet with such skill 
and so silently that he made no splash or 
ripple in the water. I have often sat with 
my back to him in the quiet of a sunset even- 
ing and listened to catch the slightest sound ; 
but no, though we glided along the water like 
an arrow, John's paddle was quiet as a mouse. 
On the excursion referred to the silence was 
broken by John's voice. " Mr. Joe, will you 
be mad if I ax you somfen ? " " No, John ; 

what is it ? " There was a pause, then calling 
up all his courage he broke forth with a ques- 
tion which I have no doubt he had meditated 
upon and could contain no longer. " What does 
you do in a show ? " I told him that it would be 
rather difficult for me to explain to him what my 
peculiar line of business was. " Well," said John, 
" does you swallow knives ? " I told him that I 
had no talent whatever in that way. " Well, your 
son told me that you swallowed knives, and 
forks, and fire, and de Lord knows what all, and 
I believe he was just foolin' me." I agreed with 
him, saying that he was quite capable of it. 
" Well, dere 's one thing certain," said John ; 
" you don't act in the circus." I asked him 
how he could be sure of that. Here he burst 
into an immoderate fit of laughter, almost tip- 
ping the canoe over in his violent mirth. " Oh, 
no — oh, no, sah ; you can't fool me on dat. 
I 've seen you get on your horse; you ain't 
no circus actor." 

Near our plantation lived a famed Acadian, 
named Pierre Landry. When he was a boy 
he had seen Lafitte, and many tales of this bold 
bucaneer were traditional in his family. I had 
heard much of this old man; and, being curious 
to see him, set out with the intention of taking 
a photograph of himself and his family, and of 
perhaps getting some interesting matter relating 
to Lafitte. About three miles from the entrance 
gate of our plantation runs the Bayou Petite 
Anse. Its low banks are fringed with tall, gaunt 
cypress trees, hung with tangled vines and 
drooping moss. It would have had a mysteri- 
ous and even dismal look but for the few 
quaint little houses scattered throughout the 
woods. Some of these are painted with faded 
pink wash, others are colored yellow, with blue 
and green window-shutters, and some are white, 
giving the place a more cheerful look. The 
little salmon-colored store and post-office is sit- 
uated near a long and rambling bridge, made 
of cypress logs and earth embankments. 

Strung along this crossing on a Sunday are 
to be seen from ten to a dozen negro women 
and children fishing in the bayou. This is 
a holiday for them and they are dressed in 
their best attire — clean blue cotton jean in 
various faded shades, according to the age of 
the material ; some in deep sun-bonnets, and 
others, generally the older branches of the 
family, with their heads done up in gaudy 
colored bandanas. Upon the western side of 
this bayou stands a picturesque cottage with 
a high gabled roof, and on its wide porch, cov- 
ered with rose vines and honeysuckle, sat Pierre 
Landry and his wife and daughter. 

The old man could not walk, and had been 
wheeled out in his chair to enjoy the lovely 
spring morning. He was a fine specimen of 
an Acadian patriarch ; his complexion was of 

8 3 6 


a rich brown, and his snow-white hair floated 
about his reverend brow. He had been for 
years the arbitrator in all questions of impor- 
tance among his people — a grand old peace- 
maker, whose wisdom and justice settled the 
petty and important quarrels of his more ir- 
ritable neighbors with unerring justice; and 
many misunderstandings that would have 
lapsed into ruinous lawsuits were arranged 
by him without a murmur from either plain- 
tiffs or defendants, so that the attorney of the 
village looked upon him as a mortal foe, and 
on one occasion threatened to sue him for 

There was a cheerful aspect about the place : 
the birds were singing, the bees were buzzing 
amid the flowers, and the whirl of a spinning- 
wheel upon the porch, turned by old Landry's 
daughter, gave the spot a home-like look that 
told of love and peace. As we entered the 
little garden gate Madame rose from her chair, 
and with rustic French politeness invited us to 
enter. " Entrez, monsieur," she said, in kindly 
tones. I told her the intention of our visit : she 
seemed pleased, and said, through our over- 
seer, that she had been informed of it and 
was quite ready. She then began arranging 
her husband, her daughter, and herself into 
what would have been, I am afraid, a rather 
stiff family group. I told her there was no 
hurry, and that I preferred she should take 
her former position, and I would wait until 
some fitting picture should present itself. 

I asked the driver to tell her that my visit 
was not one of mere idle curiosity, but that I 
had heard what an interesting character her 
husband was, and as the house was so quaint 
and pretty I had taken a fancy to photograph 
it and give the picture to some magazine for 
illustration, and that then they would become 
quite famous. 

She laughed at this and whispered some- 
thing to her husband, who looked at us in a 
dazed and bewildered kind of way as if he 
did not quite understand what was going on. 
She patted him cheerfully on the back and 
seemed quite childlike in her joy at the pros- 
pect of becoming historical. In chatting about 
various matters I asked if her husband were 
ill. " Oh, no," said she ; " but old, very old — 
not able to walk now." And the tears came 
into her honest eyes. Her daughter knelt upon 
the steps and looked up into her father's face. 
" My darling husband," the wife continued ; 
" we have been married many years. He has 
been all his life so good, so brave, so noble — my 
own dear Pierre." She laid her hand upon his 
shoulder, and, half turning her head from me, 
looked down upon him with as much affec- 
tion as she could have done upon her wed- 
ding-day. Now was the time. " Stay that way 

for a moment," I said — and the picture was 

She could scarcely believe it was over, never 
having seen the operation before, and wanted 
to look at the picture at once. I told her 
that she must wait and that I would bring the 
picture at some future time ; and so we parted. 
Just one year after this my wife and myself, 
driven by our overseer, stopped at the garden 
gate in front of this same cottage. How glad 
I was that I had taken the picture and could 
give it into the hands of Pierre Landry's 
widow; for in the mean time he had been called 
away to plead his own cause in another world, 
and if virtue and honesty be weighed in the 
balance there, the chances are that he has 
been acquitted. The place looked much the 
same, but there was a curious stillness about 
it that seemed almost sacred, or I fancied so. 
The roses and honeysuckles of the year before 
had gone, like him whose hand had reared the 
vine; but new ones were in their place, and 
old Madame Landry sat in her husband's chair 
upon the porch. Coming down to greet us with 
some flowers in her hand to give my wife — 
for the driver had told her we were coming — 
she was about to hand them when I gave her 
the picture. The dear old woman for a moment 
seemed bewildered, the freshly gathered flowers 
fell unheeded at her feet, and, gently kissing 
the likeness of her husband, she burst into 
tears and sank upon her knees ; then clasping 
the picture closely to her bosom, she cried out, 
" O my darling, my own, my noble Pierre ! you 
have come back to me." My wife and I looked 
into each other's faces with moistened eyes, 
and, respecting her sacred sorrow, stepped 
quietly into the carriage and drove away. As I 
glanced back I saw the dear old woman had 
risen from the ground and was tottering towards 
the gate. With one hand she clasped the pic- 
ture to her heart, waving the other almost 
wildly overhead in an ecstasy of grief and joy. 
As we passed the corner of the field the driver 
pointed to a mound marked by a simple cross 
and covered with blooming roses. 

And now I must end my life, not " with a 
bare bodkin," but with a harmless goose quill ; 
and however painful the suicide may be to me 
it is a satisfaction to know that with the same 
blow I have put an end to the sufferings of my 
readers. Besides, an extended sojourn here, 
either in a literary or a personal state, may 
after all be of little moment. Seneca says, when 
writing to his friend Lucilius on this matter, 
" Life is like a play upon the stage ; it signi- 
fies not how long it lasts, but how well it is 
acted. Die when or where you will, think only 
on making a good exit." 

In Louisiana the live-oak is the king of the 



forest, and the magnolia is its queen ; and there 
is nothing more delightful to one who is fond of 
the country than to sit under them on a clear, 
calm spring morning like this. The old limbs 
twine themselves in fantastic forms, the rich 
yellow foliage mantles the trees with a sheen of 
gold, and from beneath the leaves the gray moss 
isdraped, hanging in graceful festoons and sway- 
ing slowly in the gentle air. I am listening to 
the merry chirp of the tuneful cardinal as he 
sparkles amid the green boughs, and to the more 
glorious melody of the mocking-bird. Now in 
the distance comes the solemn cawing of two 
crafty crows. They are far apart; one sits on the 
high branch of a dead cypress, while his cau- 
tious mate is hidden away in some secluded spot : 
they jabber to each other as though they held 
a conference of deep importance ; he on the 
high limb gives a croak as though he made a 
signal to his distant mate, and here she comes 
out of the dense wood and lights quite near 
him on the cypress branch : they sidle up to 
each other and lay their wise old heads to- 
gether, now seeming to agree upon a plan of 
action : with one accord they flutter from the 
limb and slowly flap themselves away. 

I am sitting here upon the fragment of a 

broken wheel ; the wood is fast decaying, and 
the iron cogs are rusting in their age. It is as 
old as I am, but will last much longer. Most 
likely it belonged to some old mill, and has 
been here in idleness through many genera- 
tions of the crows; it must have done good 
service in its day, and if it were a sentient 
wheel perhaps would feel the comfort in old 
age of having done its duty. 

Over my head the gray arms of two live- 
oaks stretch their limbs, and looking down 
into the ravine I see the trees are arched as 
though they canopied the aisle of a cathedral ; 
and doubtless they stood here before the builder 
of the mill was born. Behind a fallen tree there 
stands another, and from where I sit I plainly 
see the initials of my wife's name, cut there 
on the trunk by me on some romantic birthday 
many years ago. We live here still, and it is 
legally recorded in the archives of the parish 
that this place belongs to us ; and so it does, 
just as it did to the man that built the mill. 
And yet we are but tenants. Let us assure our- 
selves of this, and then it will not be so hard 
to make room for the new administration ; for 
shortly the great Landlord will give us notice 
that our lease has expired. 

loseph Jefferson. 


IIVIL Service Reform has 
had a stormy existence of 
twenty-three years. It has 
moved along amid the 
abuse of foes who have 
sneered at its advocates, 
and the loud praise of 
friends who have showered 
much indiscriminate invective on all its ene- 
mies, real and supposed. Like other causes at 
bottom righteous it has marched forward, 
slowly and painfully, yet still forward. Never- 
theless in all the noise and dust and shouting 
the precise thing wanted occasionally becomes 
dim, the line of march is sometimes lost, and 

the results reached are often hidden from sight. 
Any one who watches the course of a reform 
like this and sees it struggling among confu- 
sions born of much violent argument and talk- 
ing hither and thither, for and against, is 
strongly tempted to cry out with Carlyle : " O 
shrieking beloved brother blockheads of man- 
kind ! let us close those wide mouths of ours ; 
let us cease shrieking and begin considering." 
In the language of the shop, let us stop and 
take stock, that we may know the real state of 
the case, what we have got, what we want, 
and how we are to get that which is lacking. 
As Mr. Webster said on a celebrated occasion, 
after tossing on the waves of debate it is well 

8 3 8 


to take our latitude and see how far we have 
been driven from the true course. This is es- 
pecially desirable in this instance, for no move- 
ment has ever suffered more through needless 
misstatement at the hands of both friends and 
foes than this effort to obtain better methods 
of administration in the public service. The 
very name itself is misleading, for the real in- 
tent of the movement is not to reform the civil 
service, but to change the mode by which its 
places are filled. The purpose of civil service 
reform is to take the routine offices of the Gov- 
ernment which are not political out of politics, 
where they ought never to have been, and to 
substitute for personal patronage in appoint- 
ments some system which shall be impersonal 
and disinterested. The improvement of the 
service itself is a secondary object, for the civil 
service of the United States has been as a rule 
very good, and a movement therefore which by 
its title demanded only a reform of the service, 
and which at the outset was chiefly urged on 
that ground, started on false premises. This 
misfortune in naming is undoubtedly the chief 
reason that the movement for so long a time ap- 
pealed so little to the American people, who are 
extremely practical, and who are inclined to re- 
sent anything which seems to them merely a 
fanciful effort to redress an unreal or trivial 
grievance. It is possible that no better name 
could have been devised. It is quite certain 
that it will not now be changed, and it is also 
certain that its real meaning is coming to be 
understood rightly. 

The name, however, is the least of the diffi- 
culties. Both friend and foe seem to have con- 
spired to pile up confusions about the movement 
in the form of argument and description. To 
begin with, there seems to be an absolute de- 
termination to misstate the case historically. 
The especial advocates of the reform have, 
as a rule, seen fit to take an arbitrary point 
in our history and declare that there and 
then what they call the spoils system was 
born. This theory coincides pleasantly with 
the belief not uncommon in certain circles 
that things political are much worse than they 
used to be once upon a time, and that we 
have fallen away sadly from the high stand- 
ards of the fathers and founders of the Re- 
public. These admirers of the past apparently 
consider that the only statesmen are dead 
statesmen and that living public men are mere 
" politicians " — a word which has come to 
be, like the " spoils system," a term of art. In 
the good old days — exact date not given — the 
evils of modern public life, according to this 
doctrine, did not exist. Everybody who held 
office then was good and able, and was chosen 
or appointed solely from merit, while selfish 
politicians and mercenary lobbyists were un- 

known. In short, human nature then was 
something very different from what it is to- 

This is not the place to deal with this par- 
ticular humbug, which springs either from ig- 
norance or from falsification of the facts, not 
only of our own history, but of all history. All 
that concerns us here is its application to the 
civil service question. It appears to have 
passed into a dogma that political patronage 
began with Andrew Jackson, and that the pro- 
posed reform is simply an effort to bring the 
civil service back to the pure system of the 
early days of the Republic. The exact truth is 
very different. The modern method of selecting 
civil servants by examinations open to all was as 
unknown in the early days of the United States 
as the telegraph or the telephone. When the 
Government of the United States was formed 
the only theory in regard to appointments to 
office was the one then in vogue everywhere, to 
the effect that they were matters within the per- 
sonal gift of the Chief Executive or his repre- 
sentatives. Acting on this theory Washington 
appointed the officers of the Government 
according to his good pleasure. That he was 
guided by the highest and most disinterested 
motives, and enlightened by the best informa- 
tion he could obtain in making his selections, 
cannot be doubted. But it is equally certain 
that he distributed the offices solely as a mat- 
ter of patronage; that at the start, with few 
exceptions, he appointed only friends of the 
Constitution ; and that after the development 
of parties he appointed only Federalists, lay- 
ing down plainly in more than one letter the 
doctrine that none but those who were friendly 
to the Government ought to receive the offices. 
John Adams pursued the same general policy, 
and his " midnight appointments " were as 
marked an example of partisanship in filling 
offices as our history can show. Jefferson, 
after some delays and a few fine phrases, dis- 
tributed a large percentage of the offices 
among his party adherents. No plainer state- 
ment of the spoils system was ever made than 
that laid down by Jefferson in the following 
letter to the New Haven remonstrants : " If a 
due participation of office is a matter of right, 
how are vacancies to be obtained ? Those by 
death are few ; by resignation, none. Can any 
other mode than that of removal be proposed ? 
This is a painful office, and I meet it as such." 
The rest of the letter, too long for quotation, 
is an argument on this theme that offices are 
to be distributed according to politics, and 
removals made in order to get them. As Mr. 
Adams says with quiet sarcasm in his " History 
of the United States," Jefferson did not go so 
" far as to assert that to the victors belong the 
spoils; he contented himself with claiming that 



to the victors belonged half the spoils." The 
restriction was characteristic of the man, and 
less honest than Jackson's bold and frank de- 
termination to have everything, but the prin- 
ciple in both cases was precisely the same. 
Moreover at this very time in some of the 
States, notably in New York and Pennsylvania, 
political patronage in government offices was 
carried out with a ferocious thoroughness un- 
known at the present day. 

In the interval between Jefferson and Jack- 
son political patronage subsided. Madison, 
long before his coming to the Presidency, 
had declared himself against removals with- 
out cause, which was the view of the younger 
Adams also, and probably of Monroe as well. 
The real cause, however, of the small num- 
ber of changes during this period lay deeper 
than the personal views and characters of the 
Presidents. The long continuance of one party 
in power, followed by the disappearance of 
the Federalists and the merging of all parties — 
nominally at least — in one, was the efficient 
and obvious reason for the small number of 
changes under Madison, Monroe, and Adams. 
The system, however, remained at bottom 
entirely unchanged, and when Jackson came 
into power with a new set of followers and 
a new set of ideas he merely put into active 
operation a practice which had slumbered 
for twenty years, but which had been the 
same from the beginning. Under Jackson the 
distribution of the offices for political pur- 
poses was extended and systematized, and the 
theory upon which it was done was thrown 
by Marcy into the now famous formula, " to 
the victors belong the spoils." Dating the 
spoils system from Jackson's time, therefore, is 
dating it from the declaration of the formula, 
which has no real connection with either its 
origin or its practice. Since Jackson's day, as 
the Government has grown, political patronage 
has grown and spread until it has assumed the 
enormous proportions with which the present 
generation is familiar„ The effort to do away 
with it by an impersonal and disinterested 
machinery of appointment is a wholly modern 
idea, and is not in any sense a reversion to the 
early practice of the Republic. 

The historical view of the ardent reformer 
that patronage in offices sprang full fledged 
from the brain of Andrew Jackson seems 
purposeless in its inaccuracy except so far as 
it fits in with an a priori theory of modern 
political decadence. This cannot be said of 
the historical view of the enemy of the reform. 
Superficially more exact than that of the re- 
former, it is in reality even falser, and at the 
same time it is anything but purposeless, for its 
object is to discredit the reform in the eyes of 
the people. The first historical proposition of 

the opponent of the reform is that the patron- 
age system has always existed in this country, 
and that the reformers seek to put something 
wholly new in its place. So far the opponent 
is perfectly correct, and he becomes mislead- 
ing only when he comes to his second propo- 
sition, which is that patronage has not only 
always been the system of dealing with the 
offices, but that it is the American system of 
civil service, and that any other scheme is 
open to the fatal objection of being un-Amer- 
ican. This second proposition is wildly false. 
Patronage in office is no more a peculiarly 
American institution than the common law. 
We brought the patronage system with us from 
the Old World, as we brought many things, 
good and bad. Some of these importations 
were in their nature suited to us and our 
new conditions, and were therefore American. 
Others were wholly alien to our theory and 
practice in government, and therefore were 
un-American. To the latter class the patron- 
age system peculiarly belongs. After the fall 
of the feudal system and the rise, establish- 
ment, and consolidation of the monarchies 
of Europe the doctrine that the king was 
the fountain of honor received a great ex- 
tension. It was perceived readily that as 
the king possessed the appointing power he 
had a vast opportunity in the public service 
and in the public revenue for reward and pun- 
ishment, for corruption and profit. In offices* 
and sinecures, in pensions and contracts, the 
king could provide for his bastards and his 
favorites, his relations and his supporters. In 
the monarchies of Europe this was what pat- 
ronage in offices meant, and it was dispensed 
with a profligacy which sowed seeds of revo- 
lution destined to bear a terrible harvest. In 
England patronage took another turn, as was 
to have been expected from her limited royal 
power and greater popular liberty. English 
statesmen soon discovered that public offices 
were the best and surest means to strengthen 
and maintain their power, and that they 
had in them an almost unlimited fund for 
bribery. Sir Robert Walpole developed this 
system with his wonted ability and made 
it one of the bulwarks of the unquestioned 
sway which he held so long. For more than 
a century after his time patronage prevailed 
everywhere in England. With a limited suf- 
frage, rotten boroughs, and an aristocratic 
government it was a most powerful engine, 
and the personal and political corruption 
which it engendered is one of the common- 
places of history. When England had cast off 
the rotten boroughs and had enlarged her suf- 
frage, when her government became demo- 
cratic instead of aristocratic, the royal and 
aristocratic system of patronage broke down, 



and a system which accorded with modern 
civilization took its place. 

In this country prior to the Revolution we 
had the patronage system of Sir Robert Wal- 
pole, own cousin to the foul and corrupt 
abuses of Louis XIV. and of the other mon- 
archies of Europe. When the Government of 
the United States was formed the wise men 
who framed the Constitution saw and rooted 
out one of the evils of patronage, although not 
perhaps the worst. They perceived very clearly 
that Parliament was controlled and corrupted 
in large measure by the bestowal of appointive 
offices upon its members, and in order to pre- 
serve the legislature of the United States 
from this danger they put a clause in the Con- 
stitution which made it impossible for the 
Executive to corrupt Congress by the appoint- 
ment of its members to office. This makes it 
clear that the framers of the Constitution 
saw nothing sacredly American in official 
patronage. On the contrary they detected in 
it in one direction a great peril, and in that 
direction they cut it up by the roots. They 
went no further, not from any particular faith 
in the system, but because they then knew no 
other way of rilling offices than by the will and 
pleasure of the appointing power, and because 
the minor offices were so few that no man ex- 
cept an inspired prophet could have seen in 
them any danger. At all events the system 
•thus modified has endured unchanged and 
unassailed until within the last twenty years, 
when its rottenness became apparent from the 
vast increase of offices and consequent growth 
of patronage. 

The system of patronage in offices, then, we 
have always had, but it is none the less a system 
born of despotisms and aristocracies, and it is 
the merest cant to call it American. It is a 
system of favoritism and nepotism, of political 
influence and personal intrigue. In a word 
it is as un-American as anything could well 
be, for a system by which Louis XIV. and his 
successors drained the life blood of the French 
people, and by which Sir Robert Walpole and 
his successors corrupted the British Parliament, 
has no proper place on American soil, and is 
utterly abhorrent to the ideas upon which the 
democratic government of the United States 
has been founded and built up. Whatever may 
be said for or against the substitute which is 
now in part established, it is at least grounded 
on the American idea of a fair field and no 
favor, and this of itself is sufficient to prove it 
superior to a system which is all favor and no 
field at all. 

So much for the historical side of the ques- 
tion. Let us look now for a moment very briefly 
at the arguments for and against the reform. 

In favor of the reform it is urged that by a 

mechanical system of examination combined 
with permanency of tenure a better quality of 
service will be secured. There can be no 
doubt that there is force in this argument. 
The chances are that you will get a better 
stenographer if you examine him on his abil- 
ity to write short-hand rather than on his own 
political belief or that of his friends, and the 
same holds true of all branches of the Govern- 
ment service. But the improvement to be 
obtained in this way is neither great enough 
nor sufficiently obvious to make it a control- 
ling motive in the adoption of the reform. It 
is a sound but an altogether subsidiary argu- 

A far stronger proposition in support of the 
reform is, that to stake on each presidential 
election the livelihood of all the thousands of 
people who hold Government offices and sup- 
port themselves and their families by Govern- 
ment work is to subject our institutions every 
four years to a grave and increasing peril, and 
to create a class of office-holders and merce- 
naries constantly increasing in numbers and 
seeking with the keen instinct of self-preser- 
vation to control the Government. Such an 
enormous stake, involving the fortunes of so 
many people, bids fair to convert an election 
from a political contest into a struggle for 
existence on the part of large numbers of peo- 
ple, and such a struggle renders men desperate 
and ready for desperate acts. This argument 
of itself is enough to demonstrate the necessity 
of taking the civil service out of politics, and 
thus preventing the growth of a large class of 
people who regard politics not as a question 
between conflicting political principles, but as a 
mere battle for life and for money to live upon. 
The reality of this danger is great, and gives 
a force to the argument which no thoughtful 
man can question. 

The last and most immediately practical ar- 
gument in favor of the reform is that patronage 
places upon Senators and Representatives, as 
well as upon the chief executive officers, a bur- 
den which they were never intended to sustain. 
The immediate result of this is that public 
interests are subordinated to the private in- 
terests of the office-seekers. Legislation suffers 
because those who ought to legislate have their 
time occupied, their attention distracted, and 
their minds fatigued by the incessant demands 
of persons who seek places under the Govern- 
ment. If the favorite theory of those who op- 
pose the reform, that the executive officers in 
the various departments and bureaus are the 
proper persons to select their own subordinates, 
were carried into operation there would be 
little need of the reform. Department officers 
as a rule desire to make successful adminis- 
trations and could be trusted to select their 



subordinates wisely; but the fact is that the 
executive officers of the Government do not, and 
under the patronage system cannot, select their 
own subordinates with a view solely to good 
administration. As a matter of fact their sub- 
ordinates are selected for them by Senators and 
Representatives who are entirely irresponsible 
in regard to matters of administration, and who 
are necessarily governed more or less by per- 
sonal and political interests which have no 
bearing on the execution of the public busi- 
ness. It is perfectly true that a business man 
does not select his clerks by a hard and fast 
competitive examination such as is applied 
now to a portion of the Government offices ; 
but, on the other hand, a business man who 
appointed his clerks on account of their poli- 
tics, or because some politician recommended 
them, would soon find his way into bankruptcy. 
The selection of subordinates in a private busi- 
ness is made practically by a competitive ex- 
amination of the severest kind, managed by 
a watchful self-interest. The men who carry 
on the Government and who recommend 
appointments have not the enlightened self- 
ishness which business success demands to 
guide them. On the contrary, enlightened 
selfishness in their case makes personal ad- 
vancement of the first importance and the 
success of the business a very secondary mat- 
ter. It is necessary therefore that we should sub- 
stitute for the severe competitive examinations 
which are enforced by the conditions of busi- 
ness and commercial life some mechanical 
system which shall approach them as nearly as 
possible. The selection of clerks by competi- 
tive examination is a system which is no doubt 
imperfect, but it is infinitely better than that 
which it replaces. It has the cardinal merit 
of taking from the hands of Senators and Rep- 
resentatives a task for which they are not fitted 
and with which they should not be burdened, 
and of making the selection of subordinate 
officers disinterested and impersonal. Com- 
petitive examinations are not infallible, but 
they are better tests of fitness than the preju- 
dices, friendships, and personal and political 
interests of men in public life. The exercise 
of patronage, moreover, is a source of weakness 
to every party and to every man who touches 
it, and it lowers the tone of public life, to the 
great injury of legislation and the public wel- 
fare. Yet until it is destroyed by law every 
public man must deal with it whether he wishes 
to or not, and if he refuses, his refusal is a mere 
shirking of duty. 

Such are the principal, and, as it seems to 
me, conclusive, arguments in favor of maintain- 
ing and extending the reform of the civil ser- 
vice and of the abolition of patronage. The 
arguments against it are for the most part 
Vol. XL. — iio-iii. 

mere appeals to prejudice. Such, for instance, 
is the reiterated statement that civil service 
reform is un-American, to which I have al- 
ready referred. This is simply untrue. Patron- 
age is un-American, and an impersonal system 
which offers a fair field and no favor is as dis- 
tinctly democratic and American as anything 
well can be. Another cry is that civil service 
reform is a foreign importation — of Chinese ori- 
gin, according to some authorities ; of English 
birth, according to others. Even were there 
meaning or truth in this, the answer would be 
easy. There is only one thing more contempt- 
ible than a feeble imitation of other people, 
and that is an equally feeble refusal to adopt 
something intrinsically good because some- 
body else has tried something like it and found 
it beneficial. We are hardly likely to aban- 
don gunpowder or printing because the Chi- 
nese are said to have been the first inventors 
of both. Still less would it be a mark of high 
intelligence to revert to the Indian tongues 
because the language of the United States is 
that of England also. Another objection of 
the opponents of the reform, which enjoys the 
lonely preeminence of deserving to be called 
an argument, is that a permanent service will 
lead to a civil pension list. If the one were 
inseparable from the other this would be a 
very grave objection, but a moment's reflec- 
tion shows that there is nothing in it. Men 
and women who enter the Government ser- 
vice are perfectly aware that there is no re- 
tiring pension to be looked forward to, and that 
if they decide to remain in the service 
they must trust to their own exertions and 
their own frugality, or to the formation with 
their associates of an insurance fund, to make 
provision for their old age, exactly as they 
would do if they engaged in any private busi- 
ness. If they are not willing to do this the 
remedy is very simple — they need not enter 
the service. 

The most common form of attack on civil 
service reform, however, is to denounce it as a 
sham, and by applying to it various contempt- 
uous names to make it ridiculous and thus 
drive it out of existence. There is nothing 
easier in the world than to sneer, and it is par- 
ticularly easy to sneer at any one who is trying 
to make things better. But the sham in the 
civil service business does not lie with those 
who are trying to make it a practical working 
system, but with those who put it in their plat- 
forms, who vote for it in their conventions and 
in Congress, and then go about assailing it as 
a hypocritical humbug. It is an inspiring sight 
to observe the manly indignation expressed 
against civil service reform by its opponents 
on the ground that it is a sham. To states- 
men, politicians, and men in public life gen- 



erally, nothing is so repulsive as humbug, for 
it is well known that they never indulge in it 
themselves, always voting and speech-making 
and resolving in exact accord with the hard, 
cold facts and never for effect. They would not 
object to it so much, they say, were it not that 
it is a humbug. It is that feature which de- 
presses and angers them. " The idea of discuss- 
ing how clerks shall be appointed," says one, 
" when there are matters of real importance, 
great questions, before us ! What can be more 
contemptible ? " It does not seem to occur to 
them that it really is a mean thing to have ap- 
pointments to office made grave political issues 
in every district and every State, and that they 
are so because they are kept in politics by 
patronage, which civil service reform aims to 
destroy. " Merit forsooth ! " says another. 
" Clerks to be selected by merit ! Bah ! What 
a piece of pretentious humbug ! " etc. This 
argument has the advantage of requiring no 
intellectual effort. Any one can make it by 
assuming a contemptuous tone and a sarcastic 

At the same time it will be noted that merit 
governs these same people in selections for 
their own service. It is only in the service of 
the Government that they are so liberal to the 
unfortunate and the unworthy and so severe 
towards merit. Yet another inquiry of the same 
type is that which asks with a sneer how men 
are ever to be encouraged to take part in poli- 
tics if they are not to share in the rewards. 
It is wonderful that men should be found in 
the light of history to put forward such a 
staring absurdity as the proposition that in 
this day and generation you can carry on par- 
ties and win party victories by offices. Im- 
portant elections turn on issues that affect the 
great mass of the people, not on the selfish in- 
terests of a few. In some large cities where a 
great mass of patronage, municipal, State, and 
national, is concentrated, the caucus or the con- 
vention, and sometimes the election, is decided 
by a compact body of office-holders, but with 
these exceptions offices are utterly ineffective. 
On the other hand, if patronage is of doubtful 
political advantage under the most propitious 
conditions, its disadvantages are glaring. To 
a party at large, as to an individual, it is, as an 
almost invariable rule, a source of weakness. 
The distribution of patronage is simply a dis- 
tribution of factious quarrels throughout a State 
or a district, and no party and no man in the 
long run ever benefits by it. 

I believe that I have now enumerated all the 
objections brought forward against the reform. 
It is rather a pitiful array, hardly to be dignified 
by the name of arguments ; but after a some- 
what protracted research and much patient 
listening I can find nothing else. 

So far as the existing system of competitive 
examinations under the civil service goes its 
opponents are more fertile in objections, but 
when these criticisms are fairly hunted down 
they generally turn out to be either without 
foundation or else extremely weak. In the first 
place, admitting all the imperfections that are 
charged, the opponents have nothing to offer 
in place of that which they propose to destroy, 
and they do not dare argue openly that a 
return to the system of patronage would be ben- 
eficial. They are fond of declaring that the 
examinations are scholastic and impracticable, 
but it is never possible to pin them down to 
a specific case. The commonest habit is to 
mix up the examinations, those for instance of 
assistant astronomers with those of clerks or let- 
ter carriers, and this confusion is the closest ap- 
proach in my experience to a demonstration 
that the examinations are not practical. There 
was at the outset more force probably in this 
objection, but under the present commission 
such mistakes as there were in the character 
of the examinations have been largely if not 
entirely remedied. Another point of criticism 
relates to the accumulation of names upon the 
eligible list, and a great deal of sympathy is 
poured out over the poor people whose names 
get on the lists but who have no hope of be- 
ing certified for appointment. The crowding 
of the eligible list could of course be avoided 
by simply raising the standard of examination, 
but let us try it by the real test of a comparison 
with the old system. Out of every three eli- 
gibles on an average only one is appointed. 
Before the railway mail service went under the 
civil service law in May, 1889, 1 had over sixty 
applicants for clerkships in that service. It 
was only possible for me or for any congress- 
man in my place to secure appointments for 
five. With few exceptions, so far as I could 
judge from my own inquiries, the applicants 
were all fairly eligible, and therefore it appears 
that under the patronage system in this instance 
only one name in twelve reached an appoint- 
ment, instead of one in three as under the re- 
formed system. A wider and more conclusive 
example can be found in the diplomatic and 
consular service. There are in that service, 
assuming that all are changed, between two 
and three hundred places. As a matter of fact 
many are not changed, and others are too 
trifling to excite competition. Since the 4th 
of March, 1889, there have been, as I am 
informed, 5300 applications for positions in 
this service, and these applications are practi- 
cally confined to 119 places. In other words, 
assuming that all the 119 are changed, one 
applicant in fifty gets a place. It is not dif- 
ficult to imagine all the disappointment and 
heart-burning, all the weary waiting and sick- 



ness from hope deferred, caused by a system as 
monstrous as this which tempts and urges 
fifty men to seek an office with loss of time, 
money, and self-respect only to reject beyond 
recall forty-nine of them. It is easy also to 
imagine the frightful waste of time caused to 
the department officers to the detriment of 
the public business. The late Mr. Walker 
Blaine, of the State Department, was re- 
ported in an interview as declaring that a 
permanent service was imperatively needed, 
and such is, I believe, the opinion of all good 

I have no doubt that what happened in my 
own experience, as well as in the case of the 
consular service, holds true as a general rule, 
and the explanation lies in the fact that pat- 
ronage increases applications because it makes 
it seem as if it must be easy to get a place 
when it goes by favor and costs the giver noth- 
ing. The office-seekers forget that securing a 
place depends not on the method of selection, 
but on the number of places in proportion to 
the number of applications. 

I have tried to state fairly the principal ob- 
jections brought against the system now in 
actual operation. There are no others in my 
opinion worth consideration, and the recent 
attack upon the civil service commissioners, 
which was made because they enforced the 
law and not because they failed to do so, has 
not only signally vindicated Commissioners 
Roosevelt and Thompson and their policy, but 
has shown in a general way how remarkably well 
the new system is working. There remains to 
be considered, however, one point in which 
both friends and foes of civil service reform are 
equally guilty, and which has tended more 
than anything else to obscure the real object 
of the reform and to retard its extension. This 
is the confusion of the patronage offices with 
those under the civil service law. With each 
succeeding Administration there is a loud cry 
raised that the spirit of the reform is not re- 
spected in regard to those offices which are 
confessedly filled by patronage. To remove 
without cause officers of a fixed tenure before 
the expiration of their term may be described 
as a violation of the true civil service princi- 
ple, but this is all that can be said with regard 
to offices of the patronage class. Offices not 
in the classified service will be emptied and 
filled by any President, of any party, for per- 
sonal or political motives, and whether it is done 
in one year or in four is wholly unimportant. 
If the appointing officer selects bad men he is 
justly censurable ; but for the mere fact of thus 
emptying and filling offices he is not censura- 
ble, nor can any man administer a patronage 
system in any other way. Civil service reform 
is concerned with only two things — the admin- 

istration of the civil service law, and its exten- 
sion. If we go beyond this with talk about 
the " spirit " of reform and applying the reform 
principle to offices not within the law, great 
confusion is caused and an impression of in- 
sincerity is created, which does and has done 
more to hinder the advance of the genuine re- 
form than anything else. In this connection it 
may be said that it is much to be wished that the 
charge of hypocrisy and pharisaism made by 
the opponents of the reform had no foundation. 
The reform itself in intent and in methods is 
honest, simple, and devoid of sham, but there 
has been a great deal of insincerity as well as of 
the " better than thou " tone among those who 
have assumed a particular guardianship over 
it. For example, to pass over in dead silence 
the removal on political grounds of a collector 
or a postmaster before his time by the President 
of one party, and then to cry out and get into a 
white heat with the President of the opposite 
party for doing the same thing, is dishonest hum- 
bug of the worst kind. This attitude has been 
common and has done infinite harm to the re- 
form, because it has made the people confuse 
some of the reformers with the reform itself, 
and believe that inasmuch as the former were 
partisan and insincere the latter was a pretense 
and a sham. 

What, then, has actually been obtained, de- 
spite attack and confusion, despite the mistakes 
of friends and the assaults of foes ? We have 
to-day thirty thousand of the most important 
and best paid offices fairly out of politics and 
under the civil service law. The system is so 
firmly established that I believe its repeal is no 
longer among the possibilities, and the great 
body of the American people are coming to 
understand and value it. In the recent de- 
bate in the House the attempt to cut off the 
appropriations not only failed but increased 
appropriations were carried, which was the 
greatest victory for the reform that could have 
been won, and the highest assurance of the 
permanency of the system that could have 
been obtained. Public opinion too has pro- 
gressed enormously, as is shown by the fact 
that even the worst opponents eagerly assert 
that they believe in real reform, but object only 
to this particular kind. All this represents a 
great advance, and is a much greater achieve- 
ment than most people realize. 

What remains to be done? In the first 
place, it is necessary to demonstrate to the peo- 
ple the practicability and the fairness of the 
reform methods, for therein rest its mainte- 
nance and extension. In the second place, every 
effort should be made from year to year to ob- 
tain appropriations sufficient to enable the 
commission to carry on their work successfully. 
In the third place, we must seek the extension 

8 4 4 


of the system by executive act, which can 
reach almost every branch that it is desirable 
to bring within the law, and strive also by some 
practical scheme to take the fourth-class post- 
masters out of politics. It is utterly impossible 
to apply to fourth-class postmasters, even if it 
were desirable, the system of competitive ex- 
aminations; but it is quite possible to take 
them out of politics, and to that end every ef- 
fort now should be directed, for with the re- 
moval of the fifty-seven thousand fourth-class 
post-offices from politics the old system of pat- 
ronage will be practically at an end. Lastly, 

and by way of general suggestion to those 
most ardent in the cause, in judging public 
men in this matter the same standards should 
be applied to all, and patronage offices should 
not be confused with those of the classified 
service. Do not make haste to criticize, in the 
hope of partisan gain, the manner in which 
patronage is distributed, but make every effort 
to destroy patronage by law ; for by law alone 
can the evil and degrading system of political 
patronage in the distribution of public offices 
be rooted out and an American system of fair 
play and businesslike methods put in its place. 

Henry Cabot Lodge. 




Author of "Jan Vedder's Wife," "The Border Shepherdess," "A Daughter of Fife," 

" The Bow of Orange Ribbon," etc. 


u For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice." 

11 From olden faith how many a glorious deed 
Hath lit the world ! its blood-stained banner led 
The martyrs heavenward ; yea, it was the seed 
Of knowledge, whenceourmodern freedom spread." 

11 So will the shine 
Of soul that strikes on soul make fair and fine 
This earthy tenement. Thou shalt extol 
The inner, that the outer lovelier seem." 

HE baron and Lady Kelder 
were sitting together in that 
confidential silence which 
is satisfied with the near-, 
ness of the loved one. 
Their thoughts were iden- 
tical in kind, for both were 
reflecting that the follow- 
ing day would be the fortieth anniversary of 
their marriage. 

In our age life is so exacting that old people 
have too often exhausted all poetic feeling, 
have become indifferent, and weary as travel- 
ers at nightfall. But this happy couple in 
spite of years had kept the dew of their youth. 
They were still easily moved and easily pleased. 
Their hearts blossomed like spring though near 
the winter of age; and their simple dignity, 
their green intellects, their kindness and ready 
cheerfulness, gave them, in spite of their gray 

hairs, something of the air and the charm of 

The baron, found his lady as beautiful as 
ever. Her figure was yet erect, her features 
were noble, her eyes as young as they were at 
twenty ; so soft and limpid as she sat this night 
opposite him that he fancied he could look 
through them into the loving soul behind. A 
smile tender and gentle completed her face. 
It was not an inadvertent smile; it had come 
naturally from the wife's last glance at her 
husband. For she had suddenly remembered 
the coming anniversary, and had with the 
thought lifted her eyes to him. 

"A man after God's own heart," she whis- 
pered ; " and 't is the greatest honor I have to 
be loved by him." 

Then her face saddened slightly ; she was in 
a little perplexity. Always hitherto she had 
been able to give him some trifle that he 
wished for or required as a wedding token. 
In their earlier years it had been a handsome 
garment," a set of laces, a horse, or a purse; 
and on one memorable occasion, just before 
the battle of Marston Moor, the sword which 
typified her consent and sympathy. 

In later years her tokens had usually taken 
the form of books. In the baron's corner the 
oak shelves were full of them — polyglots of 
Antwerp and Paris, with such colossal theolo- 
gians as Augustine, Jerome, Aquinas, Calvin. 
On a lower shelf the dumpy vellums of Dutch 
divines, at peace beside Bishop Hall, and Dr. 
John Owen, and Mr. Richard Baxter; and 



nearest of all Francis Bacon and Philip Mas- 
singer, Selden and Izaak Walton, with Quarles, 
Crashaw, Herbert, etc. 

This year she had bought nothing. Their 
position was so uncertain that money had a 
value touching things which were invaluable. 
It might be required for simple existence, for 
comforts on which life depended ; she did not 
dare to spend a shilling lest it should afterwards 
be sorely needed. Yet she was troubled at the 
omission. It had made her heart ache for 
many days. And she had ransacked her coffers 
and cabinets in the hope of finding something 
that, either for its associations or its intrinsic 
value, might be worthy to offer. Nothing had 
come of her search, and to-morrow morning 
she could only give him again the love that 
was always new and young ; and she did not 
doubt but that her empty hands would be just 
as welcome as they were on the day of her 
bridal. Still, still she wished she had a token. 
In forty years it was her first failure. Then 
she remembered the wonderfully blessed year 
in which Nathaniel was born. The boy, the 
heir, had been her bride-day gift. So to-mor- 
row was also Nathaniel's birthday. She had 
not forgotten it, but in this connection it came 
with a fresh significance. " A good son," she 
thought. " A dear good son. A worthy Kel- 
der; and I love him with all my heart." 

To this thought Nathaniel entered. She 
had grown accustomed to his gradual emaci- 
ation, and to the sadness in his eyes, for he 
had always a smile for his parents, though one 
that brightened his face only for the passing 
moment. He had been to Kendal on impor- 
tant business, and he talked its circumstances 
fully over before he spoke of his meeting with 
Anastasia and John de Burg. 

Lady Kelder was intensely curious on this 
subject; and when Nathaniel described how 
the fierce, strong man had been, as it were, 
shriveled up by fire and smitten blind by its 
flash she trembled and cried out, " Odinel ! 
Odinel! You must — " Then she ceased, for 
she saw "that the baron had covered his face, 
and she knew that he was praying. 

After a few moments' silence Nathaniel 
said, " George Fox was speaking in Kendal 


" He stood upon one of the stone tables in 
the open fish-market. You know it is but a 
little space, and quite surrounded by shops and 
houses. Every window was thrown open and 
crowded with men and women, and below him 
the upturned faces were solid as a floor. 
Father ! Mother ! I pray you listen patiently 
to me. I am this night ashamed of my faith, 
and I find it impossible to excuse the things I 
have heard." 

" Surely the Quakers are not complaining 
again. Has not the king been very consider- 
ate of their claims ? " 

" 'T is of the Quakers in New England I 
speak. Let Puritans no more accuse the Jes- 
uits ; they have far outdone them in cruelty 
and intolerance to men, women, and children." 

" Nathaniel, I wonder not as it concerns 
women. Women preachers are a moral shock 
to all good Christians." 

" Tell us briefly, Nathaniel, what George 
Fox said." 

"There is no need that I tell you of the 
scourgings and imprisonments, and the doing 
to death in various ways, that have made the 
footsteps of Quakers in New England red 
wet-shod in their own blood. Governor Ende- 
cott 1 — " 

" I knew John Endecott, Nathaniel, and I 
always thought him to be a stout Dorchester 
man as ever I had dealings with : a good 
fighter, and such a one as pleaded for free 
schools twenty years ago. No drinker, no 
dicer, and as fond of a garden and an orchard 
as a boy of his marbles." 

" But now, father, he is sharpened and hard- 
ened by the cruel preachers at his side ; and 
by their counsel the gallows has been set up 
for the support of religion. On it they have 
already hanged — " 

" Well then, Nathaniel, we have heard of 
the hanging of the two men and the woman 
preacher many a time and oft, and we have — 
if it please you — heard only the Quaker side 
of the matter. 'T is like enough they pushed 
themselves presumptuously where the Lord 
sent them not ; vain and vulgar men." 

" Indeed, mother, they were neither vain nor 
vulgar, Robinson being the son of a great 
London merchant, well bred and well learned, 
and Stephenson a Yorkshire farmer who heard 
while at his plow the ' call ' which made him 
instantly leave his wife and children and home 
and go as the Lord sent him to testify on the 
gallows set up by priests on Boston Common. 
As for the woman, Mary Dyar, she was a 
comely and grave matron, with the soul of an 
evangelist and martyr. But, as my mother 
saith, 't is an old story, and there is newer 
matter to complain of. On the 14th of last 
January they hanged William Leddra, a Corn- 
ishman — " 

" But what for, Nathaniel ? T is a kind of 
folly to say a man is hanged and then com- 
plain of it, for the punishment infers the crime." 

" Not so. They could find no fault in him 
save that he preached Christ without their 
license, and assured the people that Christ 
spake truth when he said, ' I will come unto 
you, and abide with you ' ; not that he would 
1 Spelled so at this date. 



send by any priest or preacher. And there are 
other men left under sentence of death, and 
women whipped barbarously through the 
streets, and cruelties unmentionable practiced. 
Father ! Mother ! I must away yonder, even if 
I perish with my friends. I die daily here, I 
do indeed." 

" Your friends, the Prideaux ? Are they not 
in the Dutch colony ? " 

" Indeed, I know not. I had short speech 
with George Fox, and he said he had cause 
to think that Roger Prideaux was in Boston ; 
and if he is there, and in prison, Olivia will — " 
He ceased speaking. A deathly paleness over- 
spread his face, and large tears rolled unchecked 
from under his closed eyelids. 

Lady Kelder looked at him in silence, and 
then rose quietly from her chair and left the 
room. The baron sat musing, with his eyes 
cast upon the rug at his feet. Silence, pregnant 
with thought and feeling, brooded between the 
men. At last the baron spoke. 

"Nathaniel, I wish youtohavethewomanyou 
love so truly. Go to her; go to her to-morrow " 

" My mother will never consent ; and un- 
less she give me some token of kindness to 
Olivia I go in vain. Olivia will not marry 
me without your blessing and my mother's 
welcome. That I know most surely. But give 
me your blessing, father, and I will go and 
see her once more ; for my heart is rent with 
sorrow and anxiety, and I say truly that I am 
dying day by day." 

" Go, my son, and my blessing with you. 
And do not fear concerning the estate. Had 
De Burg been able to prejudice me therein, we 
had felt his hand ere this, I think." 

" But if question of this kind should arise 
while I am away ? " 

" I will call upon Strickland, and ask him 
to plead my cause." 

Nathaniel looked the thanks he felt little able 
to speak. He was worn out with physical fa- 
tigue and mental emotion, and glad to escape 
to such oblivion as a sleep tormented with 
fears for Olivia brought him. 

Lady Kelder had gone away to think, but 
her bitter disquiet did not suffer her for some 
time to concentrate her mind on the subject 
filling it. She called Jael, and found that Jael 
had gone to visit a sick child. She wandered to 
the window, and with her heart full of the two 
men before the parlor fire she looked into the 
night. The trees, made thin by autumn winds, 
let her vision sweep through them far off to 
the horizon, and a feeling of loneliness and 
immensity widened her soul. She cast her eyes 
upward, and the heavens spoke to her in their 
speech ; and then, she knew not how, but her 
heart was softened, and she began to weep. 
Few and far between are such moments of god- 

like condition, but they do come, and blessed 
are they who have the grace to salute them. 

So as she stood there in the twilight, silent, 
motionless, humbly receptive to all good in- 
fluences, she thought of her husband and son 
as she had never before thought of them, and 
some heavenly power put an idea into her soul 
that threw all her nature into tumult. A great 
thought, if she were only great enough to en- 
tertain it. She had been longing for a wedding 
token for her dear lord, and it was shown her 
how to offer him one most acceptable. But 
it was a gift only to be given by an absolute 
surrender of her closest self. Was she able to 
make so great a sacrifice ? As she sat still in the 
dim light, searching the very depths of her feel- 
ings and intents, Jael entered. She lit the lights 
and prepared her lady's night toilet, moving 
very softly about, until Lady Kelder said: 

" Jael, what of the sick child ? " 

" Dead, my Lady. Only the soul's leavings 
there now. A bonny lad, and so like himself 
to the last moment that it is hard indeed to 
think of him as changed at all." 

" Poor mother ! " 

" Well, my Lady, Mary Skelton has a big 
family, seven lads and lasses, and the last one 
not a month old. He '11 get little Geff 's name 
belike, and step into his place." 

" Jael, you speak foolishly. One child can 
never take the place of another child. Would 
I give to any other daughter the place of my 
lost Alice ? God forbid ! Ah, Jael, the dead 
loss and the vacant place are better than such 

This loyal thought towards the dear dead 
hallowed and softened still more her gentle 
thoughts of the dear living. She fell asleep 
with a troubled and tossed and anxious heart, 
but the spirit of love brooded over the soul's 
tempest. When Lady Kelder awoke in the 
morning the sunshine was streaming through 
the east windows, and she opened her eyes 
with a smile. Jael, busy about her lady's toilet, 
noticed her cheerful alacrity ; noticed also that 
her usual morning fret was lost in a silent pre- 
occupation that had nothing unhappy about 
it. But she thought the mood well accounted 
for by the anniversary it held in memory. 

Now there are some gracious souls who like 
to make the doing of a kindness a sort of per- 
sonal festival. Lady Kelder bid Jael bring her 
handsomest silk robe, and she watched its ar- 
rangement before her mirror with a critical 
pleasure. Deep ruffles of fine English point 
shaded her yet beautiful hands, and a hood of 
the same lace fell with a picturesque and veil- 
like grace across her white hair. Jael settled 
every fold of lace and silk with a proud ap- 
proval ; and as the love of inferiors is generally 
grounded upon personal or social advantages, 



she left her mistress that morning exceedingly 
conscious of her superiority to all other women. 

For a few minutes Lady Kelder stood mo- 
tionless in the center of her room. The sun- 
shine fell all over her noble face and figure, 
her silk robe glistened in it, and her hands 
with the white ruffles above them had a start- 
ling delicacy against its somber splendor. To 
her still face and dropped eyelids it gave a 
specially luminous character, for as she stood 
thus she was blind to outward surroundings; 
she was searching with spiritual vision the very 
depths of her nature. 

She was asking herself: " Can I do this thing 
with all my heart ? Can I do it without reser- 
vation ? Can I do it not only at this hour, 
but during all the days of my life ? " Still as the 
woman stood and looked she was fighting a 
great battle. " Can I do it ? Can I do it 
cheerfully ? Can I do it all my life ? " For 
a- few minutes this solemn inquisition im- 
pressed a serious religious gravity upon her 

" For my dear love's sake ! For my dear 
son's sake ! For my Lord Christ's sake, I can 
do it ! I can do it with all my heart, and for 
all my life ! " She whispered the words to 
God and herself, and as she did so her face 
grew bright, and she lifted clear open eyes to 
the heaven which by faith she apprehended. 

As this act of self-renunciation was accom- 
plished she heard the baron's voice. He was 
in the garden beneath her window, and with 
a strange and happy exaltation she went to 
greet him. And as she was a very woman, she 
was conscious, even in its higher atmosphere, 
of a certain pleasure in her rich apparel and 
handsome appearance. 

The baron stood with his son a little way 
down the main avenue. They were talking of 
Nathaniel's proposed voyage, and the young 
man leaned against the straight bole of a large 
larch tree. The baron stood erect, facing him, 
and he had a few late flowers in his hand. 
Lady Kelder called their names in a joyful 
voice, and, daintily lifting her silk skirt to avoid 
the dew on the shrubs, went towards them. 
Both turned their faces, alight with love and 
admiration, ceasing from speech, to watch her 
approach. With a pleasant imperiousness she 
took the first word. 

" Odinel ! Husband ! Dearest heart ! This 
day I give myself again to you. Nathaniel, 
this day I thank God again for your birth ; 
and for my wedding token to you, Odinel, and 
for my birth token to you, Nathaniel, I have 
one true gift — my heart's welcome to the girl 
Nathaniel loves. She shall be to you and me, 
Odinel, as a dear daughter ; and I surely be- 
lieve she will be to you, Nathaniel, a true and 
loving wife." 

It was a supreme sacrifice and a supreme 
thanksgiving under the drooping larch 
branches. A few words sprang hot from each 
heart, and Nathaniel kissed the happy tears 
off his mother's eyelids, and Lady Kelder 
kissed them off her husband's and her son's. 
Somehow the white late flowers were in her 
hand, and her hand was on her husband's arm, 
and Nathaniel, radiant and smiling, was walk- 
ing at her side. 

And she was not a woman to retract a tittle 
of her gift. On the contrary, she entered into 
Nathaniel's plans with a generous detail. She 
wrote a letter of welcome to Olivia, and stinted 
no word of her loving right as an adopted 
daughter of her house. She packed Nathan- 
iel's clothing, and gave him wise and practi- 
cal advice as to his marriage ; and she sent a 
swift messenger to Hannah Mettelane to in- 
form her of Nathaniel's intentions, and bring 
back such letters as she desired to send. And 
when, on the second morning afterwards, Na- 
thaniel left Kelderby for his long journey, she 
bravely kept her cheerful heart to the last mo- 
ment, and sent him away with her love and 

Perhaps she had some doubtful and un- 
happy moments in the solitude of her room, 
but not even Jael knew of them. For to Jael 
she had accepted Olivia as her future daugh- 
ter with such a complete ignoring of her for- 
mer dislike as forbade any allusion to it. 

"My son goes to America to bring home 
Mistress Prideaux as his wife," she said with 
a calm complaisance. " 'T is a good marriage, 
and a great content to the baron and myself. 
And as 't is the first marriage in Kelderby in 
forty years, we will bring home the bride with 
songs and garlands and a great feast. That 
is but right, 1 think." And Jael looked at her 
placid face and accepted the situation without 
remark or demur. For in its haughty reti- 
cence it said as plainly as possible : " I have 
changed my opinions. I choose to forget. I 
choose to accept what I once rejected, and 
I will suffer no remarks on my conduct." 

In the mean time Olivia was quite uncon- 
scious of the joy hastening to meet her. Her 
mind, open and thoughtful as silence, had long 
ago admitted that there never yet was gain 
without some loss in it. She had not found 
the wilderness free from bewildering human 
mysteries and agonies, and her needs there 
had often been as close and urgent, and 
heaven and help apparently as far off, as ever 
she had found them in the crowded habita- 
tions of men. Life came to her uncalled for, 
and from every point; and she was touched 
and moved by influences flowing in, she knew 
not how or whence. 

Nothing had happened just as Roger had 



planned. His proposed settlement had been 
broken up by circumstances no human fore- 
sight could have prevented, and instead of 
" settling," the way had been opened for travel 
and preaching in a remarkable manner. It was 
more than a year after touching American soil 
before he had a house of his own ; and then 
every room in it, excepting the one built espe- 
cially for Olivia, was a " prophet's room," and 
" Prideaux's " soon became known as a resting 
place and a gathering place for all Friends 
passing to and fro on religious journeys. 

So, then, the solitude and quiet which Olivia 
had anticipated were not realized. The house 
was never empty of guests : there were many 
meetings and discussions, and people coming 
and going ; and even if she went far into the 
woods for meditation she was not sure but 
others of like mind would meet her there. 

One morning early in November this per- 
petuity of companionship fretted her calm soul 
to the verge of tears. She could not help won- 
dering if there would not be, among the hills 
of God, " coverts " where " rest in the Lord " 
could not be broken in upon. She knew there 
was an inward peace which could consume 
like a fire all murmur of discontent, but she 
could not reach it while Anna Copeland was 
telling Rachel Sanderson of her great deliv- 
erances, and Roger and three men Friends 
were sitting together for directions. 

Yet she blamed herself for her inability ; she 
believed her weakness grew out of vain long- 
ings, and thoughts which were so sacredly per- 
sonal that she could share them with no earthly 
being. For never had the memories of the past 
haunted her so vividly and so persistently. 
She had not been able to listen to Anna Cope- 
land for the sound of the bees in the clover 
fields round Mettelane, and from Mettelane 
to Sandys and Kelderby how swift was the 
soul-flight ! 

It was an exquisite day, full of that still se- 
renity which precedes the advent of winter. 
The sun was pale, the air subtle. The trees 
had suffered their yearly enchantment, and 
now and then they talked soughfully among 
themselves, in soft murmurs, with long silences 
between. She sat down under a large maple, 
and at first her gaze was full of that total in- 
difference which comes from sheer weariness ; 
perhaps also from some disappointment, as if 
she had looked at her ideals too closely — 
a fatal mistake in life. 

She appeared a little older, but still had that 
virginal beauty of promise which sets " the 
budding rose above the rose full blown " ; and 
as she sat musing under the great vault of bare 
branches it was difficult to say what of the 
unknown and unseen was in her lonely sim- 

She was thinking of Nathaniel ; recalling his 
nobility of nature, the eager tenderness of his 
wooing, the sorrowful atmosphere in which 
their love had grown. Often she had thus 
thought of him, until the sense of his presence 
had been so sure and so sweet that she had 
lifted her eyes to see if he were not coming, 
and listening intently had thought she heard 
his voice calling her. For the ear has its own 
memory. It watches for an accustomed sound, 
and sometimes imagination will not let it be 

This morning, when the same sense of near- 
ness made her heart beat and her face flame 
with hope, she did not raise her head. Move- 
ment would break the spell ; she would hold 
it breathless, and save the influence to the last 
moment. But it did not fade away; it grew 
stronger. There was a strange stir among the 
fallen leaves ; a familiar sound of quick, even 
steps ; a low, intense voice calling her ; some 
one coming nearer, nearer — some one different 
from all others, infinitely dearer and closer. 

She stood up and cast her eyes down the 
narrow path. There could be no mistake. 
The tall, erect figure, the clear, happy face, 
searching the woods as it came onward, were 
the figure and the face of Nathaniel Kelder. 
She went swiftly to meet him. She answered 
his call with a whisper on his lips. 

Nathaniel could have come at no more fa- 
vorable moment. Her heart had been plead- 
ing for him longer than she knew ; for it had 
learned many things in exile that she had not 
intended it to learn. Among these things was 
the conviction that God was not more easily 
found in solitude than in the stress of daily 
life; that the soul makes her own peace quite 
as often in the strife of cities as in the loneli- 
ness of the woods; that in loving and doing 
and suffering it is possible to be closer to the 
Divinity than in simple meditation. 

These convictions, so easily stated, had been 
arrived at only through disappointment and 
sorrow ; and they were not explained to Na- 
thaniel without sweet delays and mutual con- 
fessions and experiences. When they returned 
to the house Roger was sitting alone at his 
door. He was greatly changed. The pious, 
kindly master of Sandys had become an en- 
thusiast and evangelist — rugged, muscular r 
sunbrowned ; and, though spotlessly neat, 
dressed in the plainest materials. His eyes 
kindled when he took Nathaniel's hand, and 
then he looked at Olivia with inexpressible 
love and resignation. 

" Thou art come for Olivia ? " 

" Yea, Roger. Deny me no longer, I en- 
treat you." 

" I cannot deny thee what God hast given 
thee. For the last month I have felt an evi- 



dence that the Lord would break my last tie. 
Henceforward I am only his. He can send 
me through the wilderness, or to the lands far 
off. What news for the Lord's people hast 
thou brought ? " 

" I have brought news full of hope and com- 
fort. Edward Burrough has made all the suffer- 
ings of the American Friends known to King 

" Will he care for them, Nathaniel ? Nay, 
for his heart is wholly set on the pleasures of 
this world." 

" He cares for his own authority, which the 
Massachusetts colony have held in contempt." 

" In what special ? " 

" Some Friend, denied all show of justice in 
Boston, appealed to the laws of England, and 
Denison mockingly bid him do so, saying, 
' This year ye will go to complain to the Par- 
liament, and the next year they will send to 
see how it is, and the third year the govern- 
ment is changed.' And when the king read 
these words he called his courtiers round him 
and with great significance said, ' Lo, these are 
my good subjects in New England ; but I will 
put a stop to them.' " 

" Ah ! His own rights being in question." 

" Then Edward Burrough spoke boldly be- 
fore Charles, and showed him what a vein of 
innocent blood had been opened in his domin- 
ions, and the king angrily cried, ' I will stop 
that vein.' ' Then do it speedily, O King ! ' 
answered Burrough. ' As speedily as you will. 
Call the secretary, and I will do it now,' said 
Charles. And so there and then he wrote to 
John Endecott, and to all and every other 
governor of plantations in New England, that 
they should cease to punish or even judge 
Quakers ; but that if they did alight worthy 
of trial, they should be sent to London for 

" When it pleases God, kings shall plead 
for us." 

" Also the king's message was sent to Gover- 
nor Endecott by the hand of Samuel Shattuck." 

" Friend Samuel Shattuck ! " 

" Yea, the despised Quaker, driven from his 
home by Boston priests, goes back as the repre- 
sentative of their sovereign, carrying with him 
a crushing token of the royal anger. I see not 
how Endecott will endure it. My father knew 
him once, and thought well of him." 

" In some things I also think well of him. 
He has taught the little settlements the wisdom 
of unity, and brought over many good men by 
his good government." 

" But he is a bigot, or he had not cut from 
the flag the sign of his salvation." 

" 'T was, I think, a deed of passion against 
a foreign power anxious to recall the charter 
of New England and establish episcopacy. 

For truly, with the carefulness of a crusader, 
he wears always the sacred symbol clearly 
marked in the form of his beard — a perpet- 
ual witness, Nathaniel. And he is such a man 
as will not bear opposition, and the priests set 
him on fire through his prejudices." 

" 'T is the great mystery of our religion, this 
tyranny and brutality of the priesthood." 

" Nay, 't is no mystery, Nathaniel. The in- 
fluence of priests rests upon the idea that they 
are endowed with attributes denied to com- 
mon men ; that they only can interpret God's 
word and declare his will. But our God 
speaks not in riddling oracles, and why should 
he want an interpreter between himself and the 
soul which came forth from him ? Nor are 
these priests in any way better than we be. No 
extra sense is given them for the great place 
they usurp. They have a full tale of mortal 
frailties. They are sick as other men are, and 
death comes to them with no special reverence. 
Then thou must see that if men listen to the 
voice of God within them the voice of the 
priest must fail, and the power of the ministers 
will be broken. They are their own Diana, 
and they would persecute Paul, or Peter, or 
Christ himself, if they preached anything by 
which their craft was in danger to be set at 
naught. Dost thou wonder, then, that Friends 
are hated by them ? That John Wilson, 
priest in Boston, should scream out in his pul- 
pit, ' I would carry fire in one hand and 
fagots in the other, and burn all the Quakers 
in the world.' That John Higginson, another 
priest, should preach, ' The Inner Light is a 
stinking vapor from hell.' That John Rayner, 
a priest of Dover, should stand laughing for 
joy to see Mary Tomkins and Alice Ambrose 
flogged through the town on a freezing day 
for saying ' the Inner Light was none other 
but Christ, who lighteth every man that Com- 
eth into the world.' " 

" Oh ! I wonder men with English blood 
in them suffered such things in their sight and 

" They did not. The priests gloried in stripes 
and torture, but the people cut the bleeding 
women from the cart which dragged them, 
and saved them from an awful death. Priest 
Norton sneered and mocked at the agonies 
of William Brend, but the people of Boston 
succored the victim of one hundred and seven- 
teen lashes as he lay senseless on the floor of 
his dark cell. Charles Chauncy, preaching, 
told his congregation since ' they could not 
have the blood of the Southwicks by law, to 
kill them like wolves.' Oh, and much more I 
could add, Nathaniel; for priests have ever 
exhausted human torments in slaying those 
who rebelled against the enslavement of their 
own souls." 

8 5 o 


" We are free men, Roger." 

"Not if our noblest part is in thrall to a 
man-made priesthood. But I can see the day 
surely coming when men, having full liberty 
of thought and speech and worship, shall rev 
erence the names of those despised Quakers." 

"Yea, Roger; and great as are the givers 
of political freedom, the men who have wrestled 
for us with the powers of darkness for spirit- 
ual freedom will be the heroes who shall have 
the world's eternal gratitude." 

" And then, Nathaniel, truly these men who 
are now thought to be nobodies, who are dead 
and buried, shall have their lives searched, and 
their memory shall be hallowed forever." 

He ceased suddenly, with the glow of this 
anticipated triumph lighting up his rugged 
face and kindling his dreamy, wistful eyes into 
a flame of rapturous prediction. Then there 
was silence for a few minutes, and Nathaniel 
with a heart full of happiness watched Olivia 
setting out the service for the midday meal, 
and going in and out about her household 
duties with the same serene grace and dignity 
that had made her so charming as mistress of 
Sandys. Indeed this beloved interest had been 
so present that Roger's passionate arraignment 
and prophetic justification had not touched Na- 
thaniel as they might have done. In his own 
happiness it was so difficult to be sorrowful for 
the misery of others ; in the joy of the present 
hour he did not feel much the satisfaction of 
some far-off victory over wrong. 

It cost him a slight effort to say : " King 
Charles has also been kind to the Friends in 
England. Many are out of prison, and they 
have a sort of right to speak for themselves. 
A few days before I left John Duttred met a 
Friend in open argument in Kendal town 

Roger lifted his face to Nathaniel's, and 
there was a fine pity on it as he answered : 

" With such clumsy tools as arguments and 
logic men only fumble at the lock of the spirit- 
ual world. I tell thee, Nathaniel, that if thou 
desirest truth, seek it by listening to the voice 
of God in thy soul. Divine faith and love come 
not through the reason or the intellect ; they 
are a divine work in the soul. 

" ' Who that one moment hath the least descried 

Dimly and faintly, hidden and afar, 
Doth not despise all excellence beside Him ? 
Pleasures and powers that are not, and that 


"Yea; if we had all vision, Roger." 
" Vision in the spiritual world is like vision 
in the natural world — of no use unless there is 
light. Be more inward with thy God, Nathan- 
iel. If thou canst commune with thy own spirit, 

canst thou not also commune with the Spirit 
of God which is within thee ? A poor man, 
a poor man indeed, is he who has not been 
far beyond arguments and logic in spiritual 

" You go deep and high, yet I presume not 
to limit." 

" Who can limit the experiences of a soul 
bared to all the influences of God's special 
revelations ? It is impossible to say what the 
Lord Jesus Christ will do for those willing to 
live through him as he lives through the 

" As regards this world, Roger, nothing has 
happened as you expected ? " 

" The plans I made failed, for God had bet- 
ter ones. I thought to do so and so, but from 
which things I have been hindered and with- 
holden by that Hand which is my guide and 

Spiritual things had become so much Roger's 
life that it was not until the close of the day 
that he remembered certain worldly affairs 
would have to be attended to in regard to his 
daughter's marriage. " Thou wilt have to take 
thy wife without money, Nathaniel ; I have 
spent much, and I shall spend all in the 
cause of truth. For this reason God blessed 
me in my business, and when I would have sat 
down in fair Sandys he tore my nest to pieces 
and said unto me, * Go east and west, and 
preach a free and everlasting gospel.' " 

" I want neither gold nor silver. I want 
only Olivia." 

"My sister Hannah is indeed rich, and in 
the way of probabilities — " 

" We will not speak of them." 

" Thou wilt be a kind husband to her ? " 

" I promise it." 

Roger's eyes were full of tears, and Olivia 
coming into the room quickly noticed his emo- 
tion. She went to him, and, laying her cheek 
against his cheek, said : 

" Father, if thou art sorrowful, where then is 
our joy ? " 

" Though I drop tears, think not that I am 
left comfortless. The same goodness that was 
my morning light is now my evening song. 
I have an apprehension of duty to visit the 
West Indies. When thou art gone away with 
Nathaniel I shall go there." 

" 'T is a long way, father." 

" Far or near, every way is the way home. 
I have often gone through the wilderness 
hungry and thirsty and weary as to the flesh, 
but so upheld by His Spirit that I felt as if my 
feet took no hold on the ground." 

Then he rose and went out to some Friends 
sitting in the shade of a great tree, but his 
smile was a benediction as he left the lovers 





"She surpassed 
All of her own age in beauty and mind, 
Therefore the noblest man of wide Troy married 

" After Sorrow's night 
Dawned the morning bright ; 
In dewy woods I heard 
A golden-throated bird, 

And 'Love, love, love,' it sang, 
And ' Love, love, love.'" 

As Nathaniel wished to return by the same 
ship that brought him to America, it was 
necessary to hasten the arrangements for his 
marriage with Olivia. But these were of the 
simplest description, for both Puritans and 
Friends alike regarded the marriage covenant 
as one of too solemn and significant a char- 
acter to be consummated with laughter and 

The weather was singularly beautiful. The 
late Indian summer lingered for the lovers' 
joy. They spent hours together in the still 
forest, conscious of the serene sky above them 
and of the woody fragrance which their soft, 
slow feet pressed from out the fallen leaves, 
as anew and anew they told their hearts to 
each other — in words old as Paradise, yet 
young and fresh as to-day's poet sings them. 

" I love you, sweet ! How can you ever 
learn how much I love you ? " 

" Thee I love even so, and so I learn it." 
" Sweet, you cannot know how fair you are." 
" If fair enough to earn thy love, so much 
is all my love's concern." 

" My love grows hourly, sweet." 
" Mine too doth grow, yet love seemed full 
so many hours ago." 

u Ah! happy they to whom such words as these 
In youth have served for speech the whole day 

Hour after hour remote from the world's throng ; 
Work, contest, fame, all life's confederate pleas, 
What while Love breathed in sighs and silences, 
Through two blent souls, one rapturous under- 

But at length the sweet, short interval was 
over. The ship was ready to sail with the 
evening tide, and in the morning about twenty 
Friends gathered at " Prideaux's " to witness 
the troth-plighting. The Countess Mordee was 
among them. On the day previous she had 
brought to Olivia a present of some exquisite 
lace of Brussels, and remained to assist her in 
its arrangement upon the white lawn which was 
to be the wedding garment. 

So that Nathaniel did not take his bride 
without some of the insignia of the wonderful 

event. Fairies might have woven the delicate, 
transpicuous tissue of flowers of finest thread 
which gave to her simple robe the effect of 
lace-like gossamer. A veil of the same illu- 
sive beauty fell across her bright brown hair. 
A Bible bound in silver — also the gift of the 
motherly countess — was in her hand. " Look 
now, Olivia," she said ; " it was the gift of a 
very good man. It was my own wedding book, 
and upon it I have asked for thyself and thy 
husband the marriage blessing desired by the 
young Hebrew bridegroom — ' Mercifully or- 
dain that we may grow old together.' " And 
tears of fond remembrance filled her eyes: she 
looked backward nearly fifty years to see her 
own bridal, and then, mid- way life, the green 
grave of her companion. 

At sunset the hour of parting came, but it 
was not a parting without hope. Roger had 
such a confidence in the love of God that he 
believed he would sometime send him by way 
of England, and thus permit him to see his 
daughter's happiness in her own home and 
native land. A few natural tears were shed, 
and then Nathaniel and Olivia looked together 
into their future with the gladness of those who 
have no self-reproaches. 

In about ten weeks they were in London, 
and a few hours after their arrival Nathaniel, 
walking on the Strand, met Baron Strickland 
and his bride. 

" I count this a fortunate meeting," said the 
young noble, " for I assure you it is full time 
you kissed the king's hand. If your friends 
had not been as ready to make excuses as 
your enemies were to make complaints, I 
surely think ere this the Kelders would have 
lost Kelderby." 

" It is your kindness I must honor, Strick- 
land, and your advice goes well with my own 

" I shall see the king to-night. Let me ask 
for an audience for you." 

" You will do me a great service if you do." 

" I will bring you word to-morrow. If his 
Majesty receives your visit and accepts your 
allegiance it puts you out of all fear." 

The friendship intended by this offer was 
gratefully accepted, and the following day 
Strickland brought a favorable answer. The 
evening named, however, would occasion a 
delay in London of nearly two weeks. 

" A fortunate delay," said Strickland. " It 
will permit you to provide a suitable dress. 
And let me assure you that the king is a great 
observer of such matters." 

This was good news to accompany the let- 
ters to Kelderby and Mettelane, and the mes- 
senger was urged to make all possible speed. 
In both homes he was expected and watched 
for. Love is a close calculator, and the pos- 

8 5 2 


sibility of his arrival had been surmised for 
some days. 

The winter hitherto had been an open one, 
but there was every sign of an approaching 
storm. With anxious hearts the baron and Lady 
Kelder watched it coming. The distant hills 
were already turbaned with great bands of 
snow ; the bleak, leafless garden was still and 
sad under the lowering, threatening clouds; the 
dull sky was fast darkening down to the edges 
of the dull sea. The baron walked thoughtfully 
about the room ; Lady Kelder had her " Book 
of Religious Meditations " upon her knee, but 
her own meditations were far closer to her sym- 
pathies. Then came the sharp shower of sonor- 
ous hail, and after it the soft, thick flakes of the 
mesmerizing snow. While the storm lasted 
day to day must be so like, so very like. 

The baron sat hopelessly down, and with 
Lady Kelder began to count again the weeks 
of Nathaniel's absence, and to persuade them- 
selves it was really foolish to expect his arri- 
val for some indefinite time. While they were 
thus engaged Jael entered, and with sup- 
pressed excitement said : 

" Here be a gentlemanly make of a man 
from London — from the young master. All 
is well, my Lady — well as can be; nothing 
but prosperation, as I can hear of; and God 
bless us all." 

" Bring him here at once, Jael. Why not ? " 

" My Lady, he is beat out, and is having a 
few oddments of meat and bread. He left Ken- 
dal at strike of day, and has had a fight to get 
in with the storm." 

The storm now meant little to Kelderby. 
Nathaniel was in London with his wife. Na- 
thaniel was going to court with her, and in 
that event it was likely the weary suspense 
they had so long endured would be over. 
Every one was so greatly excited that Lady 
Kelder could not avoid a little scornful criti- 
cism on the mood. 

" I vow, they are as set up with the coming 
of the bride as if it were her Majesty; but, 
God knows, it is the feasting they look for 
that moves them so. Quaker or queen will 
do for an occasion." 

" Is feasting a necessity, Joan ? " 

" Let me tell you, Odinel, if we make not 
some show of company our neighbors will say 
the bride is not to our liking. And matters 
being as they are, the bride is very much to 
our liking — as far as the general public are 

" I think, dear, that privately also we shall 
soon enjoy the same opinion." 

" Odinel, what say you ? Shall we ask Mis- 
tress Mettelane to meet her niece here ? " 

" It is a kind thought, Joan; 't is most like 
you. There is no holdback in your grace." 

The praise was pleasant to her, and she 
smiled with a happy complaisance as she 
added, " I have a mind now to take, with 
Olivia, all that belongs to her." 

" Mistress Mettelane is a good woman, and 
well spoken of. She is rich also, and it may 

" If she be rich, that is a cloak big enough 
to cover all her faults. But in truth, Odinel, 
I thought not of her riches. I am sure that 
some will want to talk to me about Olivia as 
if they disparaged Nathaniel's wife, and I shall 
not let slip such occasions to say, ' Here is 
also my daughter's aunt, Mistress Mettelane, 
and a very dear friend of mine.' If all others 
are silent, be sure Mistress Duttred will push 
in Olivia's Quakerism. She will find ways and 
means to bring in that discourse, though it be 
by head and shoulders ; and it is most like to 
be in a manner of pleasing me by praising 
me. ' 'T is a great trial as ever any poor lady 
had — and you have a large charity,' and the 
like words; and I shall say, ' Mistress Duttred, 
there is greater charity in the Word than you 
and I have yet found out, and 't was there I 
got the warrant, not only to love my neighbor, 
but to judge her not.' Oh, I assure you, 
Odinel, that if our friends will flout at either 
they shall be forced to their ill-nature without 
a veil of my finding." 

When the storm was over the proposed in- 
vitation was sent to Mistress Mettelane, and 
the preparations for Nathaniel and his bride 
commenced. Concerning them Lady Kelder 
was almost hypersensitive. The finest wing in 
the house was chosen for their occupancy, and 
she took a careful pleasure in making every- 
thing in it fit her own exact and rigorous ideas 
of what was included in her promise to accept 
Olivia as her daughter. 

Yet alone she had moments of bitterest sor- 
row, and she did not look forward to the con- 
summation of her personal sacrifice without 
many mournful reflections. 

" I shall never feel the same again. Kel- 
derby will never be . the same : a strange 
woman going about the house — always there, 
morning, noon, and night ; how can I bear 
it? I have been chief and only here; now I 
shall have to endure the homage given to this 
superexcelling creature. I shall even be obliged 
to add my pinch of incense to the general ob- 
lation burnt in her honor. 'T is a hard case 
indeed to have to change all when life is so 
near its close. Well, then, it is perhaps the 
loosing of the link which is to scatter the whole 
chain. God help me ! He only knows how 
much easier it is to make a fine resolution than 
to work it out hour by hour, and day by day." 

There were a few tears in her eyes — the 
tears of age are cold and few. Once her heart- 



ache would have been washed away in a warm 
and plenteous rain, leaving life calm and clear- 
skyed after it. Now such clarifying storms were 
almost impossible to her. 

She was taking from her dower chests scented 
linen and fine tapestry hangings, and the act 
was a tangible translation of the sacredness 
of her promise. Was it made less precious by 
the heavy solitary drops that sealed its hon- 
esty of purpose ? Alas, no ! the sorrows of the 
aged must count for double. Their sense of 
loss looks for no redemption from the morrow. 

The baron never guessed how hard a dis- 
cipline his wife was bearing, or he would have 
made it lighter by a constant loving sympa- 
thy; and the household mainly believed her 
to be thoroughly enjoying the coming change. 
Jael, however, knew precisely how her lady 
carried the cup she had to drink. For to Jael 
Lady Kelder made few pretenses of any kind ; 
and having once signified her resolution to 
receive Nathaniel's wife publicly with honor- 
able welcome, she permitted herself privately 
that sincerity of speech which she knew Jael 
would respect. 

It was some gratification also to point out 
her self-denial; even Jael's approval was pleas- 
ant. It was indeed the only human approval 
she could expect, and there are few hearts 
whom the divinity quite satisfies. 

"If my son were bringing me a daughter 
worthy of my utmost honor could I do more, 
Jael? I intend Nathaniel's wife to have all 
her due, Jael." 

" My Lady, you have been generous be- 
yond all; the best room, the newest furni- 
ture, a maid hired for my young lady's own 
use. If you could only give her a little love — " 

" Love is not bought in the market place, 
Jael. I try to be considerate. Is not Mis- 
tress Mettelane asked to meet her niece ? At 
any hour now I may have to entertain her ; 
and she is quite my inferior, and a church- 
woman as well. I know little about church- 

" They aim to be about right, I should say, 
my Lady. And as we begin to age we can 
give our hearts a bit of favor, and leave the 
young ones to see that things are kept straight. 
Mrs. Mettelane wrote you a very proper let- 
ter. I never heard tell of a properer one. I 
could not help thinking that it was well such 
a good one had had the bringing up of Mas- 
ter Nathaniel's wife. She 's well come of, I '11 

" She is a statesman's l daughter, and some 
of these statesmen have coats of arms older 
than a crusader. I don't know about the Met- 

"We may as well hope they are pretty old. 
1 A landowner. 

But this or that, she has plenty of the c where- 
with,' and it is little matter, my Lady, whether 
gold be old or freshly minted." 

" If the girl were not a Quakeress." 

" My Lady, a rose is a rose wherever it 

" But differences in roses, Jael — hedge roses 
and garden roses. You cannot pin a woman 
with a proverb. And if you don't want roses of 
any kind, what then, Jael ? I have shed more 
tears lately than I thought ever to shed again." 

"If your heart is full, weep, my Lady ; 't is 
the unshed tears that are never wiped away." 

Such conversations had their use, for to do 
kind deeds and then take in private a little 
grumble about their necessity is the condition 
making much public virtue possible. And many 
a trouble comes with a blessing in its hand. 
When Hannah Mettelane arrived the hospita- 
ble instincts of Lady Kelder led her to give 
a welcome whose kindness left nothing to de- 
sire, and every moment afterwards the two 
women drew closer together. 

. On the third evening of her visit they were 
going together through the rooms which had 
been put in such beautiful order for the com- 
ing bride. Hannah Mettelane walked between 
the baron and Lady Kelder, and having ad- 
mired and suggested until the subject was ex- 
hausted, they sat down before the blazing fire 
which was already brightening Nathaniel's 
private parlor. 

Hannah had become very quiet. Her heart 
was busy, and her large, intelligent eyes moved 
with a slow speculation between her compan- 

" You have made a home beyond every- 
thing for the children," she said, " and I know 
about what it costs. I mean in love, and in 
other feelings, mayhap still more unselfish. I 
could n't have done it. I like my house to 
myself, and I had my little plan about the 
children. You see, I thought of Sandys." 

" Sandys ! " said the baron. " I thought 
your brother sold Sandys." 

" He sold it to me. I thought it a pity to 
let such a fine bit of land go out of the family. 
Indeed, after Cromwell's death it would have 
been hard for Roger to get any one to look 
at the title he could give, and many thought 
in the general turn-up at the king's home- 
coming the heir-at-law would be found." 

" I think myself it was a great risk to take." 

" But, counting all these risks, I got Sandys 
for a little price; though 't was money enough 
for the unlikely things driving my brother to 
strange lands. Then by using such friends as 
I had claim upon I made haste to certify my 
right, and looking forward always to the mar- 
riage of my niece with your son, I have kept 
the place in such order as its worth asked for." 



" Indeed, such order as constantly raised 
the wonder of all." 

" So you see " — and she spoke slowly, with 
her eyes dropped, and a happy smile lighting 
her large, calm face — " it is ready for its own- 
ers. For if Olivia married the heir of Kelderby, 
Nathaniel Kelder married the mistress of 
Sandys. A week ago I made it over, house 
and land, silver and furnishings of every kind, 
to Olivia Kelder ; and may God bless the house 
forever ! " 

" Mistress Mettelane, this is indeed great 
news," said the baron, " and we cannot but 
take it well of you. 'T is a noble home, in- 
deed it is." 

" And, as I thought, near to Kelder, and 
not far away from Mettelane. In my home, 
also, there shall be rooms made ready for the 
children's visit ; but I know right surely that 
age dwells not happily with youth, and that 
youth soon grows sad with age." 

" Think you so ? " 

" In truth I do. Age is the chapel of life. 
When we sit down in its quiet the busy cares 
and pleasures of youth come into it like an of- 
fense. I know it is well for all that Nathaniel 
and Olivia should have their own home. I 
hope that it may be Sandys." 

"They could have no fairer or finer one," 
said Lady Kelder, softly. Her eyes were full 
of tears, and she drew her chair nearer to 
Hannah's and took her large, capable hand 
within the clasp of her own small ones. A 
kind intelligence that needed no speech passed 
from face to face, From that moment they 
were true friends. 

" The silver and linen, the crystal and the 
fine pewter service, with the curious ornaments, 
I have had at Mettelane. They left Ambleside 
in Stephen Airey's . wagon, and must now be 
at Sandys. If you, my Lady, will go over there 
with me, we can see to their unpacking and 
safe bestowal. I should n't wonder if all the 
old servants are already there. The women 
have worked on D'Acre's land, one way or an- 
other, since Sandys shut ; and I called on Jane 
D'Acre as I passed, and she was crying happy 
at my news, and D'Acre said Olivia's old 
women should all be loosed from his claim 
and go back to Sandys. The D'Acres will 
be good friends, I trow." 

" If they get not cool, or hot, on their re- 
ligion," said Lady Kelder, scornfully. " As 
for me, I think D'Acre a fair-weather friend." 

" I heard that he stood not trial. But, dear 
me ! we must n't ask friends to think as we do. 
'T is too much, and beyond all. If souls were all 
made on one pattern, then possible, perhaps ; 
but, God knows, souls differ as much as faces 
— not two alike. What then, Baron ? " 

" Charity, Mrs. Mettelane. If we could 

only love each other half as well as God loves 
us all." 

" Not being God, we could n't do it, Baron," 
said Lady Kelder; "and God knows that 
there are some people God himself could n't 
love — no, not even for Christ's sake. Let us 
not talk of them. 'T is better to go to bed and 
sleep on the good fortune Mistress Mettelane 
has brought us ; for, if she will, we shall take 
the road for Sandys very early in the morning." 

Her face shone with pleasure and kindness 
as she rose, and in the noble, smiling inclina- 
tion of her head to Hannah Mettelane she 
expressed a grateful happiness that delighted 
the simple, truthful woman. And that night 
Lady Kelder was conscious of a gratitude that 
humbled and silenced her. Had she not been 
grudging Olivia a few rooms in Kelderby, and 
lo ! the stately home of Sandys was waiting' for 
her ? Had she not been fretting at the intro- 
duction of a new element into her life, when 
too old to desire it, and there had never been 
any foundation for the fear except in her own 
heart ? 

" It was not necessary to God's goodness," 
she said sadly. " Wanting to bless Nathaniel 
and Olivia, he has done it without my help." 
Tears filled her eyes, and she murmured : 
" I tried hard, indeed I did ! If God had only 
understood — " The baron entered at the mo- 
ment, and she voiced her heartache to him. 

" Indeed, dear heart, I think God did un- 
derstand. He saw you wished to be unselfish, 
and he said : ' It is enough. That will do.' 
Think you he did not understand how pre- 
cious the quiet of Kelderby was to both of us ? 
Joan, our God is such a one as cares for our 
little likings, and is heedful of our daily hap- 

" How provoking kings are ! Charles might 
have seen Nathaniel on the asking. Then he 
would have been home ere this." 

" Never hurry your happiness, Joan. And I 
think it was not the king's fault, but Strick- 
land's kindness. Doubtless he thought of such 
an important matter as court dresses, and in 
that respect sought time for the children." 

The delay in London, however, had not been 
a profitless or unpleasant one to Nathaniel and 
Olivia. During it their friendship with the 
Stricklands had been placed upon a lasting 
basis ; for each had discovered many personal 
sympathies besides such as sprung from the 
similarity of their domestic and social condi- 
tion and their identity of interests as future 

At length, the evening appointed for their 
interview with the king arrived, and they went 
together to Whitehall, making a sufficiently 
remarkable group both individually and by 
way of contrast. Marmaduke Strickland, rep- 



resenting one of the oldest families in Eng- 
land, and a passionate royalist in sentiment, 
was arrayed in all the splendor of the Stuart 
fashions. But so lofty was his stature and so 
imposing his manner, that he carried with a 
certain fitness of courtly manhood the long, 
flowing curls and flaunting finery of his order. 
His beautiful young wife wore her bride-dress 
of gold brocade, and its jeweled bodice and 
long train were but the suitable accompani- 
ments of the gems which glittered in her hair, 
and lay on her bosom, and clasped her bare 

Behind so noticeable a couple Nathaniel 
and Olivia were still more noticeable. For Na- 
thaniel's suit of Genoa velvet and Genoa point 
was made with Puritan simplicity, and Olivia's 
dress of soft white satin was without a single 
jewel. Its only ornament was the large collar 
of Brussels lace which covered her throat and 
her bosom, and the cuffs of the same material, 
which were turned back over the long satin 
sleeves almost to the elbows. But the glisten- 
ing of her garments, the radiant serenity of 
her face, and her starry eyes, gave her a singu- 
lar charm. She appeared to shine where she 
stood. And the easy grace and confidence of 
her manner were a wonder even to her com- 
panions. For none at that moment reflected 
that the soul accustomed to contemplate the 
solemnities of eternity is not to be affected by 
the gilded show of what is constantly passing 
away. Yet the scene through which she walked 
was to her a very strange one, and as far apart 
from her sympathies and intelligence as the 
east is from the west. 

The large apartments were brilliantly lighted, 
and the air was heavy with many perfumes and 
the rich odors of southern wines. Gaily dressed 
dissolute women and men were playing basset 
round a large table with a terrible eagerness. 
Their sharp, strained voices, and the chink, 
chink of gold mingled with the notes of a 
French boy singing love songs, with laughter 
half subdued, with the rustle of silken gar- 
ments and the gurgle of flowing liquors. 

The king sat amid a bevy of handsome 
women, toying with the loosened hair of one 
who held in her hand a goblet of wine ; every- 
where around the god of this world and the 
great lord of lusts ruling with prodigal wan- 

But Charles knew how to assume in a mo- 
ment the attitude belonging to the king of 
a great people. He stepped majestically for- 
ward, and won Strickland's heart anew by a 
greeting at once respectful and familiar, and 
by the genuine glance of admiration which he 
bestowed upon his bride. She knelt to kiss the 
hand he extended, but Charles quickly raised 
her, and touching her cheek said, " Kings are 

the servants of beauty." With the words, he 
took a ring from his finger and gave it to her. 

Then Strickland introduced Nathaniel Kel- 
der, saying, " He brings to your Majesty a loyal 

" A recovered loyalty is greatly prized by 
us," answered Charles. " Some of our sub- 
jects do not credit us with much conscience, 
but we credit conscience to our subjects — and 
know how to value it." Then, while offering 
his hand to Nathaniel, he turned to Olivia. 

She was regarding him with an almost child- 
ish interest, and he smiled frankly into her in- 
nocent face. It seemed to have a great and 
yet not an offensive attraction to him ; he 
scarcely heard Nathaniel speaking ; he was 
too earnestly trying to comprehend the pure, 
womanly countenance to heed words, until the 
name of "Prideaux was mentioned. Then he 
recollected what Strickland had told him of De 
Burg, and Kelder, and the Quaker Prideaux, 
and he understood the holy eyes, and the face 
upon which the dove visibly brooded, and the 
ravishing simplicity of manner and dress. His 
glance went from Olivia to Nathaniel, and he 
regarded both with great favor. 

" I think, Mistress Kelder, that the king has 
in you a loyal subject." 

" Yea ; for thou hast been kind to many 
suffering wrongfully. In the day when all need 
mercy, may God give thee mercy." 

" Be it so." 

" I offer thee neither lip service nor knee 
worship, but my heart hath none the less truth 
and honor." Then perceiving him about to 
unfasten a jeweled clasp of great value, she 
said, modestly : 

" Give me the rose thou wearest, and I will 
keep it for a token of thy kindness to me and 
to my people." 

Instantly Charles understood her. He had 
been on the point of making her a much richer 
present than the one given to the wife of his 
faithful adherent — a present, also, which her 
principles forbade her to wear. But that wisdom 
which springs from an unselfish heart had pre- 
vented a gift likely to bring unkindness and 
embarrassment, and it was with a sentiment 
of grateful admiration that he took the rose 
from his jeweled vest and gave it to her. 

An act of such evident favor at once at- 
tracted attention. Indeed it was impossible, in 
that company, for Olivia to escape a critical 
regard. The gift of the rose was to many who 
understood none of its motives a gift sugges- 
tive of the evil in their hearts. " The king is 
freshly smitten ; 't is a love gift," was the uni- 
versal comment. 

One woman, however, was not so deceived. 
She saw in it the expression of a respect which 
Charles believed very few men or women de- 

8 5 6 


served. It was Mistress Chenage. She was 
with the players at the basset table, and though 
a bank of at least two thousand pounds in gold 
lay before her she was thinking only of the 
king's rose. 

At first when she saw Nathaniel and Olivia, 
with the Stricklands, enter the royal presence, 
she had wisely determined to be indifferent to 
them. But the exclamations about Olivia's 
beauty, her angelic face, her charming sim- 
plicity, had been gradually growing more fre- 
quent and emphatic, and more difficult for her 
to endure. The gift of the rose, attended by 
a general murmur of pleasure and admiration, 
roused her to that pitch of jealous envy which 
demands the relief of offensive speech. 

As the Kelders retired from the audience 
she was conscious of their every footstep. The 
closer to her they came the more imperative 
and insolent her temper grew. She turned with 
the cards fan shaped in her hand, and watched 
with her old mockery the approach of the 
party. Her beautiful face was flushed with 
wine and anger ; her dark hair, combed back 
from her forehead, fell in heavy curls over her 
shoulders, and mingled with the pearls that 
clasped her slender throat and the lace which 
affected to cover her bosom. A dress of pink 
brocade and silver threads clung to her form 
with seductive grace, and she flung its heavy 
folds aside to display her little feet, shod in 
pink and silver shoes, as she rose from the ta- 
ble and stood directly in the way of the retir- 
ing visitors. Strickland was first. She made 
him a sweeping courtesy and suffered him and 
his bride to pass ; then, in a challenging voice, 
she said : 

" Cousin Nathaniel, be not in such a hurry 
to hide your Quaker wife. Come here, Saint 
Olivia. If you kiss me, I vow to show you 
how to cheat the devil at a game of basset." 

" If thou playest with the devil in any wise 
thou wilt lose thy soul. And what gain will 
profit thee for that loss ? " Nathaniel could feel 
his wife's inward tremor as she spoke, but out- 
wardly she was calm as a lily motionless in the 
moonlight ; and with a stern courtesy he said : 
" We are in the king's presence, Cousin Che- 
nage. You shall show your anger to me at a 
more fitting time." 

" How wise are we grown ! How strangely 
loyal ! How beyond all comparison excellent ! 
Here, boy, I will give you a song for this great 
and grand monseigneur — 

il Que son merite est extreme! 
Que de graces ! Que de grandeur ! 
Ah ! combien monseigneur 
Doit etre content de lui-meme." 

This little episode had not occupied more 
time than the ordinary salutation of friends 

would have done, but it had made a much 
more pronounced impression. The hurry of the 
beautiful Mistress Chenage, her rapid speech, 
the excitement which made her forget the cards 
in her hands and led her to intercept the 
king's special visitors, gave to the interruption 
a marked character. A swift intelligence of its 
spirit passed through the great hall; the players 
held their next throw in suspense,the singing boy 
was humming at Anastasia's elbow, " Que de 
graces ! Que de gra?ideur I " and the woman who 
was leaning against the king's shoulder said : 

" Sire, Chenage hath a temper again. A 
bride or a beauty is a red flag to her." 

Charles laughed with scornful good nature. 
" On my honor ! 't was a red rose that bred 
the present temper "; and the king's wit raised 
the laugh which Anastasia felt she paid for. 

Her game was every way lost. While she 
was turning Nathaniel's virtues into a ridicu- 
lous rhyme he had passed quietly out of her 
presence. Her anger had missed its mark, and 
she was equally unsuccessful in her play. She 
lost heavily, she provoked the temper of her 
companions, she had evidently offended her 
genius by taking revenge into her own hands. 
Never had she felt so utterly foiled and hu- 

She went to her lodgings in a fever. " The 
king openly forsoothed me," she cried pas- 
sionately, as she tore off her robe of pink dam- 
ask and the pearls from her neck and wrists. 
She looked at her long white arms, they were 
exquisitely formed ; she looked at her white 
throat and bosom, no woman in the presence 
was lovelier than herself. But the king had 
" forsoothed " her ; treated even her passion 
as matter for laughter. She held her fair face 
between her hands and muttered : 

" Alack-a-day ! I am but a wretched wom- 
an. Everything in life deceives me. Every 
plan I make fails. My lovers adore and then 
leave me. My father has so small a sense of 
what I have done for him that I have the 
heartache for it. Failure is writ all over 
my life. I wish I had been born good, for 
the devil is a cheat of all cheats. I have been 
mortified beyond all endurance. I have lost 
more money than even John will like, and 
my poor head is in a sad taking with the wine. 
Nathaniel Kelder kissing the king's hand ! 
Saint Olivia with the king's rose at her breast ! 
Lord, if I swear a little, write me innocent, 
having such good cause. But I shall tell John 
to-morrow, and he will curse them all for me ! " 

For she had not come to London without 
John. He had a lodging at Greenwich by the 
seaside, and there he sat in the sunshine and 
heard the cries of the sailors and the voice of 
the ocean once more. " I shall tell John to- 
morrow. He will find out a way. Lord, how 



my head aches ! " Then she bent herself to- 
wards a half-open drawer, and took from it a 
soiled pack of cards. She shuffled them to 
and fro a few times, and then, with a slow and 
vicious hatred, tore them, one by one, to 
pieces. " You, too, are prophesying liars. A 
plain undoing you have been to me. What 
devil is b.ehind you ? " So she sat musing until 
sleep mastered her, and, only half undressed, 
she threw herself upon the bed. 

But in the sinful and tragic events of the 
last four years she had lost the aptitude for 
that deep, animal-like sleep which had once 
made her so cruelly riant in her perfect health 
and perfect spirits. She could not escape the 
chagrin of her position. The phantasmagoria 
of the Whitehall, with its gamblers and drink- 
ers, its clinking of gold, and its murmur of song 
that no one listened to, troubled her conscious- 
ness, and made her frequently start with that 
cry of mortification and that catch in its ex- 
pression which denotes the extremity of pain- 
ful vexation. Her lovely flushed face amid the 
scattered hair of sleep, her white arms flung 
upward, her white bosom troubled with her 
restless breathing, showed that her soul, left 
without excuses, was wandering in those halls 
of remorseful memory in which the wisest of 
all sacred seers saw the sleeping wicked vexed. 

The unhappy incident did not much disturb 
either the Stricklands or the Kelders. They 
went from the palace to Strickland's lodging 
and talked about it a little, and so rubbed the 
slight annoyance away. For both felt that they 
had received that favor which kings give to 
men whom they delight to honor, and from 
Nathaniel's heart there had dropped, even at 
the king's feet, that heavy load of apprehen- 
sion concerning his estate which he had so 
long carried. 

It was past midnight when Nathaniel and 
Olivia reached their own inn. There was a 
large letter on the table, and Nathaniel saw at 
a glance that the direction was in his mother's 
writing. He lifted it with a slight fear of annoy- 
ance, but the first words dispelled his anxiety. 


Dear Ones : If you will be pleased to know that 
I wish you with me, 't is a satisfaction you may 
perpetually have. There is great and good news, 
and I am so little selfish that I will not keep it for 
my own delivery, but at once add it to the joy of 
your bridal. Mistress Mettelane came here two days 
ago, at my own invitation, and never was I more 
pleased with myself for a kindness ; for truly she 
hath astonished us all with her excellence and her 


generosity. I had indeed made such preparation for 
your comfort in Kelderby as our means and the 
house permitted, but she has far outdone all, having 
brought with her the vellums securing to you and 
yours the house and estate of Sandys. And, to be 
plain-hearted with you, I went there this day, and 
with Mistress Mettelane put into place all the silver 
and linen and ornaments which had been taken 
away for safe keeping, but brought back with such 
good intent as I cannot but honor and join in. 
Jane D'Acre was also there, busying herself about 
filling the posy bowls with holly and wood berries 
and house roses, and hanging the pots of sweet 
musk, which she saith Olivia dearly loveth. So 
then, if God is willing, you are coming to as fine 
a home as any in England. But both houses are 
ready to entertain you ; and if you come first to 
Kelderby, we shall take the daylight with us some 
bright morning, and father and mother and aunt 
and neighbors put you safe inside the portals of 
Seat Sandys. And, as Mistress Mettelane said, may 
God make your home there until your father and 
I have seen the twentieth Odinel Kelder of full age 
and worthy of his name. As you know, I am but 
a poor scribe, and I write now in such haste and 
excitement as cannot satisfy myself, nor express my 
thoughts as I mean them ; and if I did, I should 
have more to say to you than this paper would 
hold. Dears, shall we not be very happy? Indeed 
I think the promise of it infinitely above what I 
can deserve, and more than God Almighty usually 
allots to the very best of people. Pray have a care 
of your healths. I would fain say more, and yet it 
would only be saying with more circumstance that 
I rest to each of you a loving mother. 

Joan Kelder. 

They read this letter together twice over; and 
smiles, and little laughs, and sweet asides, and 
sweeter kisses interpreted it. And then Na- 
thaniel drew his wife close to his side. For a 
few moments they made a still picture of won- 
drous beauty. Nathaniel's stately figure in the 
somber richness of his velvet habit, Olivia's 
slender form in the pearly splendor of her white 
satin robe ; the masculine beauty of one bend- 
ing face luminous with love, the feminine 
beauty of the other lifted face transfigured, 
speechless, yet saying things unutterable — the 
spiritual woman making sweet the mortal 

Nathaniel kissed the words upon her lips, 
and then, with a sigh of deep content, said 
softly, " Many blessings are ours, dear heart, 
and many others are sought for us; but tell 
me, in thy judgment, which is best of all ? " 
And she laid her cheek against his, and put 
her arms around his neck, and whispered be- 
tween her kisses, " Beloved ! that we may 
receive the great grace of our bridal prayer : 
' Mercifully ordain that we may grow old 

Amelia E. Barr. 

Vol. XL.— 112. 


T is only within the last few 
years that photographic 
processes have been so far 
perfected as to make it 
possible to photograph a 
faintly luminous celestial 
object. The success at- 
tained has already been so 
great that we are made 
aware of the existence of a multitude of stars 
which would never have been otherwise per- 
ceived, even with the finest telescope and un- 
der the purest air. The sensitized plate sums 
up the effects of light, so that under prolonged 
exposure even a very faint light at length pro- 
duces its mark. In this respect the advantage 
is all on the side of the photograph as com- 
pared with the eye, for prolonged gazing 
is actually detrimental to the acuteness of 

The exposure necessary for an ordinary pho- 
tograph in the broad daylight may be only a 
fraction of a second, but with the feeble light 
of the stars three or four hours are found to be 
necessary or advantageous. Fortunately for 
the astronomer the heavens move uniformly, 
and the instrument can be made to follow the 
object by clockwork. But as clocks are im- 
perfect, the motion of the photographic tele- 
scope has to be constantly regulated by hand, 
so as to keep exact pace with a star, which is 
viewed through a second telescope attached 
to the first one. It may easily be conceived 
that it has required an enormous amount of 
skill and patience to attain to the present high 
degree of perfection. But the details of ce- 
lestial photography are outside the scope of 
this paper, and I am only concerned with some 
of the conclusions which have been drawn 
from the photographic method. 

Mr. Isaac Roberts of Liverpool has re- 
cently photographed a portion of the heavens, 
embracing about four square degrees, in the 
constellation of Cygnus, and he estimates that 
his plate shows about sixteen thousand stars, 
none of which are, I believe, visible with the 
naked eye. A good idea may be formed of 
this picture by imagining a sheet of dark paper 

1 This essay formed the subject of a lecture deliv- 
ered at the Royal Institution of London on January 
25, 1889. It gives a popular account of a paper read 
before the Royal Society in the previous November. 


thoroughly splashed with whitewash. The 
recent advance of celestial photography is 
well illustrated by the fact that this same 
portion of the heavens, when photographed 
in 1885, appeared to contain only about five 
thousand stars. Thus four years has tripled 
the number. 

Four square degrees comprise only about 
a ten-thousandth of the whole heavens, and 
if space were everywhere as thickly peopled 
as the constellation of the swan, the whole 
number of stars photographically visible would 
reach the stupendous total of one hundred and 
sixty-seven millions. But the Milky Way runs 
through Cygnus, and this is a crowded portion 
of the heavens. Yet there is little doubt that 
a hundred millions of stars would already be 
perceptible if the whole heavens were sur- 
veyed with equal thoroughness. 

These celestial photographs bring vividly 
before us the utter- insignificance of this world 
and of ourselves ; for our planet is of almost 
contemptible smallness, and our sun is cer- 
tainly a star of no great magnitude. 

And yet it is nearly twice as far from the sun's 
center to his surface as from here to the moon, 
and the planet Neptune is distant nearly three 
thousand million miles from the sun. The mind 
fails to grasp such a number of stars as a 
hundred million, and a limit to the perfection 
of celestial photography has certainly not yet 
been reached. 

Each of these millions of stars has its history, 
and there are among them representatives of 
every stage of evolution. If they were not, 
even with the telescope, mere specks of light, 
we might see the whole process before us, 
and might study them like the objects in a 

Among the stars there are, however, small 
luminous clouds called nebulae, which are not 
immeasurably small. They have of course 
been examined with all the finest telescopes 
for many years, and many strange vagaries in 
their structure have been noted. 

It is true that we know the stars and nebulae 
to be made of materials found on the earth, 
and we can estimate approximately how hot 
they are, and which are old in their history 
and which are young. All this has been dis- 
covered by means of that wonderful instrument 
the spectroscope, but it cannot show us their 


shapes and structures. Within the last few 
months, however, there is reason to hope that 
the telescopic photograph may really bring be- 
fore us in an intelligible shape many objects 
from the celestial museum. 

Notwithstanding the paucity of definite 
knowledge, many theories have been pro- 
pounded as to the sequence of changes 
through which the solar system has passed. 
The most celebrated of these is that associated 
with the names of the great mathematician 
Laplace and of the philosopher Kant. It is 
remarkable that substantially the same theory 
should have been independently formulated by 
two men whose intellects were so different. 

They both suggested that the matter which 
now forms the sun and the planets existed in 
primitive times as a globular nebula of highly 
rarefied gas in slow rotation, and their theory 
is accordingly generally known as the nebu- 
lar hypothesis. 

Every portion of this nebula of course at- 
tracted every other portion, and therefore there 
must have been a condensation at the center, 
at which point a dense nucleus must ultimately 
have formed. 

The rotation made the nebula fly out like 
a trundled mop, but the outward tendency 
was counteracted by attraction. This battle 
between the attraction due to gravitation and 
the repulsion due to rotation caused a flatten- 
ing of the globe, so that it became orange 

The gas of which the nebula was composed 
possessed heat, the central part being prob- 
ably very hot and the external part very cold, 
as estimated by terrestrial standards. As the 
energy of heat was gradually lost by radiation 
into space the globe shrunk, and at the same 
time the central portion became still hotter. 

In consequence of the shrinkage, the rate 
of rotation was increased. This mechanical 
effect may easily be illustrated thus : if I whirl 
a stone attached to a string and let the string 
wind itself up on my finger, the stone will 
whirl faster and faster as the string shortens. 

Lastly, with increased rate of rotation the 
increased repulsion due to centrifugal force 
augmented the flattening of the globe. At 
length a time arrived when the globe was flat- 
tened until it became more like a disk than a 
globe, and gravitation was then no longer ca- 
pable of holding it together in a single shape. 

Everywhere in the nebula the gas was be- 
ing pressed by the surrounding gas, attracted 
towards the center of the nebula, and repelled 
by centrifugal force away from the axis of 
rotation. The attraction diminishes and the 
repulsion increases the farther we go from the 
center. If at a place near the edge of the 
disk-like globe the attraction and repulsion are 

just equal to one another, pressure is not 
called into play in keeping the gas in its place. 
At this distance from the center, then, the gas 
which is outside does not press at all on that 
which is inside, and the inner gas may part 
company with the outer gas without disturb- 
ance to it. 

In fact, according to the nebular hypothesis, 
when the flattening had reached a certain de- 
gree a ring separated itself from the equato- 
rial regions. The central portion, thus relieved, 
regained a more globular shape, continued to 
contract and to spin quicker, until a second 
crisis supervened, when another ring was shed. 
A succession of rings was thus formed, and 
after the detachment of the last the central 
portion, continuing to contract, at length 
formed the sun. 

Each ring, as soon as it was free, began to 
aggregate round some denser portion in its 
periphery. Subordinate nebulas were thus 
formed, and they in their turn contracted and 
shed rings. The nucleus of the secondary 
nebulae formed the planets, and their rings 
condensed into satellites. 

This is an outline of the celebrated nebular 
hypothesis. I shall now show what an inter- 
esting confirmation this theory receives from a 
recent photograph. 

There is in the constellation of Andromeda 
a nebula so remarkable that its nebulous char- 
acter was recognized even long before the in- 
vention of the telescope. 1 

This nebula was first photographed with 
conspicuous success, 2 in October, 1888, by 
Mr. Roberts, and again on the 29th of the fol- 
lowing December, 1888. Our illustration is 
from the latter of these, in which the exposure 
was for four hours. 

The result is of the greatest interest, for in 
it we actually see what Laplace pictured with 
his mind's eye. There is a bright central con- 
densation surrounded by ring after ring, grad- 
ually dying away into faintness. 

In one of the rings there is a region of 
greater brightness, which may fairly be inter- 
preted as the center of aggregation for a planet. 
At another place which is clearly more remote 
from the center, although brought nearer by 
foreshortening, we have a brilliant round lu- 
minous ball — surely a planetary nebula al- 
ready formed. At a much greater distance there 
is an elongated nebulosity, which we may con- 
jecture to be a planetary nebula seen edgewise, 

1 It has, of course, been examined with all the finest 
telescopes. In 1848 Bond of Harvard College made 
a fine drawing of it — fine at least as a drawing, but 
now principally serving to emphasize the immense 
superiority of the camera to the eye. 

2 The very remarkable results attained by Mr. 
Roberts are due, I believe, to the fact that he has been 
the first to try very long exposures. 


but in a further state of advance than the other. 
It is worthy of notice that the remote planets 
Neptune and Uranus rotate about axes nearly 
in the plane of their orbits, and from the direc- 
tion of elongation of this subordinate nebula it 
seems as though the like must be true here. 

In 1848 Bond measured the positions of 
these two bright small nebulae relatively to the 
large one, and they seem to have changed 
their positions since that date. This confirms 
the theory that they are planets, but it must 
be admitted that measurements with reference 
to an ill-defined object like a nebula are hard 
to make with precision. 

I should suppose this to be the greatest 
triumph yet achieved by celestial photography, 
and I owe my sincere thanks to Mr. Roberts 
for allowing me to reproduce it. 1 

But these pictures, while confirming the sub- 
stantial truth of the nebular hypothesis, fail to 
clear up many of the obscurities which surround 
the evolution of a planetary system. There is 
one difficulty indeed so fundamental that it 
has led some astronomers virtually to throw 
over the whole theory, and it forms the spe- 
cial object of this essay to discuss it. 

It is the very essence of the nebular hy- 
pothesis that the nebula should be formed of 
continuous gas, one part of which exercises a 
pressure on another part ; for we have seen 
how gaseous pressure is instrumental in impart- 
ing the globular form to the whole, and how 
when the globe loses heat and shrinks it is just 
along that line where the pressure vanishes 
that the ring splits off. 

Now there is no perceptible trace in the 
solar system of that all-pervading gas from 
which the whole is supposed to have been 
evolved; for the planets do not suffer any 
sensible retardation in their motion round the 
sun, as would be the case if they were moving 
through even a highly rarefied gas. 

On the other hand, there is evidence of 
abundance of solid bodies flying through space. 
When these bodies meet our atmosphere they 
glow up white-hot with friction, and are called 
falling stars or meteorites. Though they are 
generally dissipated into dust in their passage 
through the air, yet once in a while one of 
them owes its preservation to its greater size, 
and falls on the earth. We thus know them 
to be strange-looking stones, largely composed 
of iron. 

The ring which surrounds the planet Saturn 
was obviously suggestive of the nebular hy- 
pothesis to the minds of Laplace and Kant. 
But it has been conclusively proved by the re- 
searches of Roche and Clerk Maxwell to con- 

1 Since this paper was written he has continued his 
researches and has produced results of no less interest 
than the present one. 

sist of a swarm of loose stones — a shower of 
brickbats, as Maxwell was fond of calling it. 
And now within the last three years spectro- 
scopic research has led Mr. Lockyer to sug- 
gest that the luminous gas, which undoubt- 
edly forms the visible portion of the nebulae, 
is simply gas volatilized from the solid state 
and rendered incandescent by the violent im- 
pact of meteoric stones. 

These gases, he tells us, cool quickly, cease 
to be luminous, and condense again into the 
solid state, but the collisions being incessant, 
the whole nebula shines with a steady light. 
Mr. Lockyer supports his view by an elaborate 
comparison of the spectra of stars and nebulae 
with those of actual meteorites, fused by the 
electric spark in the laboratory. I have not 
the knowledge of spectroscopy which would 
be necessary to examine his theory, but his 
general conclusions seem to be of the highest 
importance in the study of stellar systems. 

All these lines of observation conspire to in- 
dicate that the immediate antecedent of the 
sun and planets was not a continuous gas, but 
a swarm of loose stones. And yet the nebular 
hypothesis seems as good as proved by this 
photograph of Mr. Roberts. Here then we 
find ourselves in a dilemma ; on the one hand 
we have the meteoric theory denying the con- 
tinuity of the matter which forms the nebulae, 
whilst on the other hand the nebular hypo- 
thesis demands such continuity. I wish to 
emphasize this point — either a nebula is made 
of a cooling gas, such as hydrogen, nitrogen, 
oxygen, and the vapors of metals, or it is not 
so. The nebular hypothesis apparently says it 
must consist of gas, whilst this is denied by 
the strong evidence that it consisted of an 
enormous number of stones. It seems at first 
that either the nebular hypothesis or the mete- 
oric theory must be untrue. 

I believe, nevertheless, that there is a way 
in which these conflicting ideas may be 
brought into harmony and made to reinforce 
one another, and the special object of this 
paper is to effect such a reconciliation. But 
before coming to that we must leave for a 
time the world of stars, and must consider the 
ultimate structure of a gas, such as the air we 
breathe. A gas is now known to consist of 
ultra-microscopic molecules, all exactly alike 
in weight, shape, and structure. Although 
they are invisible, they can be counted and 
timed : there are found to be millions in a 
cubic inch of air, moving indiscriminately in 
all directions, with great velocity. For ex- 
ample, in the air, at a temperature of 60 ° 
Fahrenheit, their average speed is 1570 feet 
a second — half as fast again as the velocity 
of sound. The temperature of a gas simply 
depends on the rate at which the molecules 


are moving. Millions of times in each second 
each one of these molecules happens by chance 
to strike one of its neighbors, and the two 
which have struck rebound from each other 
as though they were of India rubber, or at any 
rate after such an encounter they behave as 
though they were perfectly elastic. If we could 
watch the crowd we should see the individuals 
darting about in a zigzag course, being de- 
flected into a new direction at each collision. 
*I have often been reminded of this so-called 
kinetic theory of gases, when watching the 
dance of a little swarm of house-flies as they 
zigzag about and sharply change their paths, 
when, for a second, two of them get entangled 
together. Perhaps this familiar example may 
help the reader to realize the dance of the 
molecules in a gas. 

The incessant agitation of molecules is quite 
independent of winds and drafts, and when 
as many molecules are going in any one di- 
rection as in any other we consider the air to 
be calm. What we call a wind is when more 
molecules are going in the direction of the 
wind than in any other. 

The molecules of a gas are not aimed at one 
another, and as a collision is all a matter of 
chance it is clear that a molecule is sometimes 
nearly stopped, sometimes impelled faster, and 
sometimes merely deflected. Thus they are 
moving with all possible speeds, but the great 
majority are moving with about the average 
speed of the whole crowd. 

According to this theory, the pressure of a 
gas is merely the cannonade of millions of 
molecules against the side of the vessel con- 
taining the gas; as the number of impacts 
per square inch and per second is enormous, 
the effect is indistinguishable from that of con- 
tinuous pressure. 

We are accustomed to make statistical 
inquiries into any question affecting groups 
of men, and the same method has to be ap- 
plied to the collisions of the molecules of a 
gas. These very complex statistics have been 
profoundly studied by Maxwell, Clausius, and 
others, and they have shown how to compute 
from the temperature and density of a gas the 
average velocity of its molecules, the average 
frequency of collision, and the average distance 
traveled between successive collisions. 

It will not be possible to go into these 
difficult questions at present, and it must be ac- 
cepted that a gas is actually composed of con- 
stantly colliding particles or molecules. But 
when we look at a gas from this point of view 
we must take care not to confuse the single 
molecule with the gas of which it forms part. 
Gas is merely our word for a crowd of mole- 
cules, much as nation is a word for a crowd of 
men. National history is no more to be learned 

from the doings and character of a single man 
than the properties of a gas are to be learned 
from the doings and character of a single mole- 
cule. In " gas " and in " nation " the relation- 
ship of all to all is involved. 

Now that the internal structure of common 
air has been explained, let us examine a little 
more closely its relation to ourselves. 

If we were to shrink to a ten-millionth of our 
actual size, how different would air seem ! It 
would then seem to consist of cannon-balls 
flying about in all directions, at rare intervals, 
and at a prodigious rate. And yet the supposed 
change in us would not have affected the na- 
ture of air, and it would still be a continuous 
gas to our former senses. Thus the description 
we should give of a gas is all a matter of the 
relative scales of largeness of ourselves and of 
the gas. 

Now this theory of a gas affords the idea 
by which I seek to reconcile the conflicting 
theories of the evolution of stellar systems. My 
suggestion is that celestial nebulse are drawn 
on so large a scale that meteorites may be 
treated as molecules, and that the collisions 
of meteorites are so frequent that the whole 
swarm will behave as though it were a gas. 
The relationship of us men to this coarse- 
grained meteoric medium is exactly that of the 
ideal pygmies to common air. 

But it is not enough to make such a sugges- 
tion as this ; the details of the idea must be 
examined. We must consider what may be 
supposed to happen when two stones clash to- 
gether, and must see whether they can come 
into collision often enough to make the swarm 
into a kind of gas. • 

In comparing the behavior of meteorites to 
the molecules of a gas it will naturally occur 
to inquire whether they can be supposed to 
possess that high degree of elasticity which is 
necessary for a kinetic theory. I believe that 
this question may be answered in the affirma- 
tive. Meteoric stones move with speeds which 
are very great according to our terrestrial no- 
tions ; and even without Mr. Lockyer's direct 
spectroscopic evidence we could not doubt 
that enough heat is generated in a collision to 
volatilize part of the solid matter of each stone, 
and to make the gas incandescent. Now a 
sudden generation of gas at the point of con- 
tact of the two stones would be exactly like 
the explosion of a charge of gunpowder be- 
tween them, and they would be blown apart 
with great violence. As far as regards their 
velocities after collision the result would be 
much the same as though they were highly 
elastic, although this virtual elasticity is of 
quite a different character from that tendency 
of a strained solid to recover its shape, which 
constitutes ordinary elasticity. I may call to 


mind, as an example of an abnormal elasticity 
of somewhat the same sort, how a leaden bul- 
let bounds from the surface of the sea, although 
lead is a very inelastic solid and water is not 
solid at all. 

It is not claimed that these considerations 
prove absolutely that two meteorites would 
bound from each other as if they were very 
elastic, but it seems highly probable that they 
would do so, and the matter is not susceptible 
of strict proof. But granting the elasticity, 
there is another point to consider. 

If two stones meet, the chance of their frac- 
ture is greater if they are great than if they are 
small, and the breakage may go on only until 
a certain size, dependent on the average ve- 
locity of the meteorites, is reached, after which 
it may become unimportant. 

When the gases generated on collision cool 
they will condense into a metallic rain, and this 
may fuse with old meteorites. Some actual 
meteorites show signs of the fusion of many 
distinct nuclei. Thus there are both abstract 
reason and direct evidence in support of occa- 
sional fusions. The mean size of meteorites in 
a swarm probably depends on the balance be- 
tween the opposing forces of breakage and 

No doubt when two stones meet directly 
each is shattered to fragments. But glancing 
collisions must be indefinitely more frequent, 
and in these we may suppose that fracture 
is comparatively rare, and virtual elasticity 

The possible frequency of fracture undoubt- 
edly does present a difficulty in the theory, 
for it would seem as though the whole swarm 
of stones must gradually degrade into dust. 
There must be some way out of this difficulty, 
for meteorites of considerable size fall upon 
the earth, and unless Mr. Lockyer has misin- 
terpreted the spectroscopic evidence, the neb- 
ulae do now consist of meteorites. 

I hold that these considerations justify us in 
maintaining a rough similarity between me- 
teoric stones and the molecules of a gas, as 
far as regards the actual collisions. If this is 
so, what is called the temperature of a gas 
must be translated as meaning the average 
energy of motion of the meteorites. 

We must now go on to consider how often 
meteorites collide, and try to discover whether 
a swarm of meteorites possesses a fine enough 
texture to permit the applicability of the theory. 
For this part of the discussion numerical cal- 
culations are necessary. Calculations require 
numerical data, and these can only be derived 
from a known system, and of course the only 
one known with any precision is the solar 
system. The fineness of grain is obviously in- 
dependent of the amount of flattening of the 

nebula which arises from rotation. In order 
therefore to simplify the matter, and to con- 
sider one thing at a time, the nebula is sup- 
posed to be one in which there is no rotation. 

The weight of the sun in pounds is four with 
thirty zeros after it, and I suppose the sun to be 
broken up into that number of meteorites, each 
weighing one pound. If the meteorites are sup- 
posed to be of iron their exact size is known, 
because the dimensions of a pound of iron are 
known. This supposition as to the weight and 
size of the meteorites is merely adopted as a 
type, but it suffices for our present purpose. 
These one-pound iron-stones are to be distrib- 
uted in a swarm extending beyond the pres- 
ent orbit of Neptune. To give numerical pre- 
cision, let us suppose that the swarm extends 
half as far again as Neptune's orbit ; that is 
to say, let it extend to forty-five times the dis- 
tance of the earth from the sun. 

In this condition the nebula is of extreme 
tenuity, and if the stones are not then too 
sparse to make the swarm behave like a gas, it 
will, a fortiori, behave like a gas when the neb- 
ula has shrunk and the stones are more closely 
packed. The supposition made as to the ex- 
tension of the solar swarm, therefore, puts the 
theory to a severe test. 

In the case of a town, density of population 
means the number of people to the square 
mile, and for meteorites what we may still call 
the density of population is the number to the 
cubic mile. The swarm is not supposed to be 
rotating, and is therefore a perfect globe, and 
the layers of equal density of population are 
also spheres. 

The stones will not be evenly distributed in 
space, but the density of population will be 
much greater towards the middle than towards 
the outside. The reason of this is that every 
stone is attracted towards the middle, and is 
only prevented from yielding to the tendency 
by the blows it receives from its neighbors. 
Think of a crowd struggling for tickets at a 
railway station, and you have a picture of 
what happens. The men squeeze and push 
and sway about, but the crowd remains of 
about the same density at each distance from 
its middle. So in the swarm the dance of the 
meteorites is incessant, but it arranges itself 
automatically into a steady condition, in which 
the density of population has no tendency to 

It is natural to ask why the stones should be 
moving at all, and how they acquired their 
great speed. This is a question that impera- 
tively demands an answer, and we are able to 
answer it with certainty. They derive their 
speed from gravitation; they have fallen in 
from a great distance towards a center of ag- 
gregation. A description of the way in which 


they may have come together will make it 
clear why they are moving, and will also give 
the reader some idea of how the actual veloc- 
ity may be calculated in a swarm of given 
mass and size. 

Imagine that somewhere in space there is 
an aggregation of meteorites, — no matter how 
it got there, — and conceive a stone released 
from a state of rest at a very great distance. 
Under the attraction of gravitation the stone 
falls towards the center of aggregation, and 
on reaching the confines of the swarm it will 
have acquired a certain velocity. It then 
penetrates the swarm for some uncertain dis- 
tance, until it happens to strike another me- 
teorite. Henceforth its path is zigzag, as it 
happens to strike, and we need not suppose 
ourselves to watch it any longer, since it has 
become one of the swarm. It is, however, 
important to remark that the supposed visitant 
from outside space has imported energy of 
motion into the system, which energy it grad- 
ually communicates to its neighbors by colli- 
sions; it has also increased the mass of the 
swarm. When another stone is allowed to fall 
in, since it is attracted by a slightly greater 
mass, it arrives at the swarm with slightly 
greater speed than the first. So if we imagine 
the swarm to be increased by the addition of 
stone after stone, we see that in the course of 
accretion the energy of agitation of its con- 
stituent meteorites gradually increases. Also 
the volume of the globe throughout which (if 
anywhere) the swarm possesses the mechani- 
cal properties of a gas is at the same time 
gradually increased. We must suppose that 
at length all the stones in that part of space 
are exhausted, the materials of the nebula are 
collected, and it only remains for them to work 
out their future fate. 

By this sort of reasoning we find out how 
fast the stones are moving, but it is proper to 
add that an important correction has to be ap- 
plied to allow for the fact that at each col- 
lision some speed is lost. In the process of 
settling into the steady condition each stone 
retains only seven-tenths of the velocity it 
would have had if it were a fresh arrival from 

It will make no material difference in these 
results by whatever process the stones were 
brought together, and this account which I 
have just given of the formation of a swarm 
is not intended as a contribution to its history, 
but is only meant to render intelligible the 
mechanical principles involved, and to show 
in a general way how the matter may be sub- 
jected to calculation. 

By such a line of argument as this I found 
that, when the solar swarm extended half as 
far again as -the planet Neptune, in the central 

region the stones were moving at an average 
rate of three miles a second, — two hundred 
times as fast as a fast train, — but that in the 
outer portion of the swarm the velocity was 

We have now to find out how often the 
stones came into collision, how far they traveled 
between collisions, and whether the collisions 
were frequent enough to allow us to consider 
the whole nebula as a kind of gas, as is de- 
manded by the nebular hypothesis. 

To how small a pygmy would air still be air ? 
The answer is that the pygmy must be just 
large enough to be struck so often that he 
loses the sensation of the individual blows, and 
is only aware of their average effect. It will 
insure this if he is struck hundreds or thou- 
sands of times in the average interval between 
two collisions of a molecule of air ; or we may 
say that his bulk must be great enough to 
contain thousands of molecules, or his length 
thousands of times as great as the average 
path traversed by a molecule between two 
successive collisions. These conditions are 
amply satisfied in the relationship of the small- 
est microscopic animalcule to our air. 

It must, however, be a giant who would not 
feel the individual blows of meteorites, but only 
realize their average effects. If we might con- 
sider the nebula, as a whole, to be a living be- 
ing, we might say that if she is to behave like 
a gas she must realize herself as a gas, and 
so she must be the giant to whose perceptions 
the meteoric nebula is to be a gas ; hence the 
giant must not be larger than the nebula itself. 

It would not be easy to explain the exact 
reasoning by which a comparison is made be- 
tween the dimensions of the giant and the text- 
ure of the nebula at every part of itself. It 
must suffice to say that the comparison is best 
clothed in a form which may appear some- 
thing quite different, but which is really sub- 
stantially the same. 

Except at the moment of a collision, a me- 
teorite is like a very small planet, and accord- 
ingly moves in a curved orbit, but at each 
collision it starts in a new orbit. 

I say, then, that the nebula will behave suffi- 
ciently like a gas to allow the nebular hy- 
pothesis to be true, if the average path of a 
meteorite between two collisions is so short 
that the bit of orbit described departs very 
little from a straight line. 

We now at length come to the numerical 
values to which we have been tending, and 
shall see how often the stones of the solar 
nebula came into collision with one another 
when the nebula extended in a swarm of one- 
pound iron meteorites half as far again from 
its center as the present distance of Neptune 
from the sun. 


In this case I find that at the middle of 
the swarm a meteorite would on the average 
come into collision every thirteen hours, and 
would travel 140,000 miles between collisions ; 
at the distance of the small planets, called the 
asteroids, it would collide every seventeen 
hours and would travel 190,000 miles between; 
at the distance of Uranus the collisions would 
be at intervals of twenty-five days, and the path 
six million miles ; and lastly, at the distance 
of Neptune, the interval would be 190 days 
and the path 28,000,000 miles. 

I have said that the criterion we have to 
apply depends on the amount of curvature of 
the average path of a stone between two suc- 
cessive collisions. Now it may be shown that 
the amount of departure from straightness is 
greater the farther we go from the middle of 
the swarm; and I find that even at the dis- 
tance of Neptune the collisions are, speaking 
relatively, so frequent that gravity only suffices 
to draw the meteorite aside from the straight 
path by one sixty-sixth of the path it has trav- 
ersed. The fraction one sixty-sixth is then the 
value of the criterion which was to be applied. 
Now one sixty-sixth is so small a fraction that 
it may be concluded that the meteoric swarm 
passes the proposed test, notwithstanding that 
the great extension which has been attributed 
to the nebula strains the hypothesis severely. 

It follows, therefore, that if meteorites possess 
virtual elasticity, and if breakages are counter- 
balanced by fusions, then a swarm of meteorites 
provides a gas-like medium of a fine enough 
structure to satisfy the demands of the nebular 

Some such numerical examination as the 
foregoing is necessary in order to assure us 
that the quality of a gas can have been im- 
parted to a nebula in the suggested way, and 
so to lift the hypothesis out of the realms of 
mere conjecture. 

We may conclude from this discussion that 
it is possible to justify the contention that the 
meteoric theory is reconcilable with the neb- 
ular hypothesis, and that we may accordingly 
hold the truth of both of them at the same 

If space permitted I might go on to con- 
sider some of the conclusions fairly deducible 
from this view of a nebula, but it must suffice 
to say that this theory seems likely to prove 
fruitful in the further elucidation of this com- 
plex and necessarily speculative subject. 

Up to this time we have been occupied with 
proving, or rendering probable, a modification 
in Laplace's theory. But it would hardly be 
satisfactory to leave the matter at this point. 
I wish it were possible to gain an insight into 
the origin and previous history of these stones, 
but on these mysteries I have no suggestion 

to make. It is, however, possible to see pretty 
clearly what happened after the nebular stage, 
and how all this bears on the state of things 
of which we are witnesses to-day. 

At the various centers of condensation which 
we now call sun, planets, and satellites the 
swarm of meteorites became denser and denser. 
The collisions were too frequent to let the 
gases cool and condense again, and thus by 
degrees the meteorites were entirely volatilized. 
Thus round these centers we should have at 
length a mass of glowing gas, and towards the 
middle fluids and solids. All this must have 
occurred comparatively early in the case of 
the sun, later at the planets, and last at the 

Outside of these condensations there were 
numbers of free meteorites, but the majority 
of the stones which formed the swarm in primi- 
tive times were already absorbed, and the ab- 
sorption still went on gradually. 

The collisions among the free meteorites 
became rarer, because they were scattered 
more sparsely; and less violent, because at each 
successive collision some relative motion was 
lost. Finally the collisions were nearly an- 
nulled. The residue of the meteoric swarm 
then consisted of sparse flights of meteorites, 
moving in streams. Such streams give us no 
evidence of their existence, except under spe- 
cial circumstances. 

The zodiacal light is a lens-shaped lumi- 
nosity, seen in the east or west shortly before 
sunrise or after sunset — not commonly in the 
latitude of England, but frequently in the 
south. It is probably due to the reflection of 
sunlight from millions of meteorites which have 
not yet been swallowed by the sun. 

Again, if a stream of meteorites moves in a 
very elliptic orbit, at one part of its course it 
passes near the sun. In this part of its orbit 
the flight is packed into a smaller space than 
before, so that collisions are largely multiplied. 
Moreover the flight dashes through a region 
thickly peopled with the meteorites which 
make the zodiacal light. It has been proved 
that there is an intimate relationship between 
comets and flights of meteorites, and Mr. 
Lockyer suggests that the luminosity of com- 
ets is caused jointly by the collisions internal 
to the flight of stones, and by those which oc- 
cur as the flight plows its way through the 
zodiacal light. 

But meteorites are still frequent far outside 
of the zodiacal light, although there may not 
be enough to reflect sunlight to a visible de- 
gree. Of this we have familiar evidence in 
the shooting star. 

The orbits of several streams of meteorites 
are known, and each year, as on certain days 
the earth crosses those orbits, their existence is 


■■■'■■.,■:.■.':■■ ■■ :■:::■■.:.■■■■■;■.■-■■■.■■.■ ■,,; 


,....■....■.■■ .■ ... . ■ ... 

m+m? : '^*:?: -m^ ->"P-r ms-m 


proved by volleys of falling stars, which emanate 
from known radiant points in the heavens. 

But these are the dregs and sawdust of the 
solar system, and merely serve to give us a 
memento of the myriads which existed in early 
days, before the sun and the planets and their 
satellites were born. 

In this paper I have attempted to touch 
on only a few points in a large subject. The 
attempt to reconstruct the history of stars and 
planets involves ideas grand in themselves; 
but the events to be recorded in that history 
relate to a past so remote that our conclusions 
cannot but be speculative. Thus the value of 

the investigation of which I have given an 
account will appear very different to different 
minds. To some men of science it will stand 
condemned as altogether too speculative; 
others will think that it is better to risk error 
in the chance of winning truth. To me, at 
least, it seems that the line of thought flows 
in a true channel ; that it may help to give a 
meaning to the observations of the astronomer 
and of the spectroscopist ; and that many in- 
teresting problems may perhaps be solved with 
sufficient completeness to throw further light 
on the evolution of nebulas and of planetary 

G. H. Darwin. 

Vol. XL.— 113. 




SAKA, September 18. — We have 
come to Osaka to spend an entire 
day in bric-a-brac : to arrive 
early at the big shop ; to have 
tea offered us in the little back 
room of the merchant, which 
looks out and steps out upon his garden of a 
few trees and little pebbly walks and some 
stone lanterns — a garden that is for us, which 
his own may or may not be. Then cigars, 
and pieces of porcelain brought from the store- 
houses ; then more tea, and an inspection of 
the many rooms full of odds and ends. Then 
more tea, and more pieces slowly and reluc- 
tantly drawn from the storehouse, as if we 
could not be so unreasonable ; then lunch and 
tea, always in the house; then adjournment 
to the upper rooms, when the hundreds of 
kakemonos are unrolled, one after the other, 
to a crescendo of exasperation. Then re-dis- 
cussion of matters below stairs, and visits to 
other rooms full of wares not spoken of be- 
fore; then more tea, and the last pieces grudg- 


ingly produced from the same occult store- 
houses; purchases amid final bewilderment; 
tea again, and departure. 

We had come to Osaka on our way back 
from Nara, and we again return to Kioto, 
which we left three days ago. The trip to 
Nara was fatiguing and delightful, and I should 


like to recall it for you, but I have no time and 
have made no notes ; and, besides, my memo- 
ries are again beginning to merge one into an- 
other, and they themselves to blend with what 
I see in Kioto. But certainly something floats 
over, which a few lines can give. 

We were out in our kurumas early in the 
morning, each with three runners. We found 
Oye San waiting for us patiently, outside at 
Inari, where he had expected us from the earli- 
est morning. It is from him that I get the 
little clay fox, given me for good luck, in a 
partnership with the one he retained. I need 
not speak of the heat. The roads were dusty 
and dry where they were not muddy and wet, 
in the country paths we took. We passed the 
edge of the city, which ends suddenly in rice 
fields, occupying what were once streets and 
houses. For Kioto is only a part of what it 
has been ; and even when it was larger, not so 
many years back, it must still have been only 
the remainder of a greater past. 

As we get into what is really the country, 

passing from broad 

gjjjjtt^ roads to narrow 

, -r ,,, tracks, our runners 

sometimes lifted 

;> I -- w- us over soft, wet 

r places, or bumped 

^^ ---"-' i.;-: us over narrow 

ditches, or guided 

BI^B us 5 at faU tilt, on 

the edges of the 
stones that are 
bridges. Some- 
m times more pa- 

tiently we halted 
to allow the files 
of black bulls to 
meander past us, 
dragging loads on 
wheels or carrying 

Rarely we met 
peasants, and then 
usually women, sometimes with horses of a 
larger breed than that we saw last month in the 
east. Once, among rice fields in the basin of a 
circle of low hills, I saw the grove which covers 
the tomb of some divine emperor of early 
times. As we circled around the slope, far away 
from this solitary oasis of trees, we could see the 

4Mi W 




grove on every side, finished and complete 
and rounded by time, as if sculptured in na- 
ture from some of those sketches that Japan- 
ese artists make for carving when they give all 
four sides, and the bottom and the top, on a 
single page. Nothing else, but perhaps some 
uninscribed stone, marks the tombs of em- 
perors, dotted about the plains of this oldest 
province of Japan. Strange enough, even in 
this strange country, is this evidence of the 
extreme of simplicity in death, as in life, of the 
oldest line of Oriental despots, absolute lords 
and masters, ever-present patterns of the deity, 
who make this one solitary exception of sim- 
plicity in history. It is as if Japan itself was 
their tomb, as if they passed back into the 
nature of which their divine ancestors were 
gods — the gods of the sun and of the earth. 

Blue hills and pagodas, and temples in the 
distance, and we came into Nara, which is 
but a breath, a ruin, a remnant of what it was. 
I had been told so often of the place, as a 
ruin among rice fields, that I was unprepared 
for the beautiful lay-out of what remains — 
for the well-planned roads and avenues, such 
as may well have belonged to some great capi- 
tal, such as would have been heard of by 
travelers who, returning in days of Charlemagne 
from other Eastern cities to Byzantium, might 
have talked of Zipango. 

Nothing remains but a few buildings, be- 
longing to temples, but their approaches are 
splendid, even though there be often nothing 
more than the general grading and disposition. 
I should have written to you from our inn, 
where I looked, in the evening and morning, 

towards the slopes of distant hills, and heard, 
out of the darkness, the sound of the great 
bell which rang first some eleven centuries ago, 
and the singing of the frogs in the fields which 
were once a city. It is now too late to begin 
to describe anything of what I saw; anything 
of temple buildings, from one of which to 
another we wandered, nor of the old statues 
and relics, nor of the religious dances of young 
girls which we looked at, standing or sitting 
near the balustrade of the dancing-shed, while 
inside, in the greater shade, they moved to the 
music and hymns of the priests — red and 
white figures, with long tresses of black hair 
and chaplets of flowers ; with faces all painted 
white, and brilliant, indifferent eyes that saw 
me sketching clearly, however, and hands that 
waved, in a cadence of routine, fans and 
bunches of little bells with long streamers of 
violet, blue, green, red, and white. Nor of the 
great park-like avenue, that made me think of 
England, through which still wander tame deer, 
as did those that, long ago, served as models 
for Okio the painter. I fear that what I have 
seen will remain only as an embroidery upon 
the stuff that my memory tries to unroll. 

It was late on a sweltering afternoon when 
we managed to leave Nara, and we reached 
Horiuji for too short a visit ; for we were due 
in Osaka the next day. We wandered in the 
late afternoon and evening through its courts, 
kindly received by the priests, for whom we had 
the recommendation of a friendly name. 

At least I had time to see the Golden Hall, 
one of the earliest buildings, now more than 
twelve centuries and a half old, and the noble 




paintings on its walls attributed to some fa- 
mous sculptor of that day. Their placid ele- 
gance, the refinement of their lines, their breath 
of religious peace, explained those claims to a 
solemn and glorious past for Japan, which look 
like a conventional exaggeration in a to-day 
that is delicate and small and dry. 

The recall of Greek perfection was not 
forced, and while still vaguely unwilling to 
confuse one excellence by referring to another, 
I could not help again thinking of the Greek 
and of Tanagra images, when I saw, by the 
light of the torches, in the great pagoda, as 
old as the great hall, groups modeled in clay 
by the same old sculptor, whose name is given 
to the paintings — Amida and Kwan-on and 
Monju, and the scenes of the death of Bud- 
dha. An admirable antiquity was to be the 
continuous impression of the evening, carried 
out into our last looks at the Treasure House. 
Its very air of an old New England barn or 
crib raised upon posts, its rough red painting, 
the high wooden steps of entrance, the gigan- 
tic wooden latch-key with which the guardian 
priest fumbled at its door, gave the note of 
extreme early simplicity — the feeling of a per- 

sisting indifference to the adornments and 
changes of centuries of fashions. 

It has been useless all along to detail any- 
thing, but the impressions of the last things 
seen remain with me as types of all. For 
there hung on the old walls of the Treasure 
House a framed banner, once carried in an- 
cient battles, its brocaded pattern exactly 
that which we know in Babylonian art : the 
circles with the lilies between, and in each cir- 
cle the Assyrian monarch struggling with lions 
— imitation or original of coeval Sassanian 
Persia, I suppose, but housed here all these 
thousand years, and in its persistence of pat- 
tern connecting with that heavy and oppres- 
sive antiquity of Nineveh which knows nothing 
older than itself for our story, except oldest 

But I was yet to find something old that 
would be directly meant for me ; a painting by 
the legendary painter of Japan, the Cimabue 
of a thousand years ago, inheritor or student 
of still older Chinese art — Kose-no-Kanaoka. 

The painting is still in fair condition, though 
injuries of time reveal, as usual, the methods 
used by the painter. And it was a delight to 
me, in this mood of veneration for past great- 
ness, to recognize in the veilings and sequences 
of this painting of the lotus methods I had 
used myself, working at all this distance of 
time and place, when I had tried to render 
the tones and the transparency of our fairy 
water-lily ; and I know you will forgive the su- 
perstitious sense of approval of my re-inven- 
tions from this indefinite past of art. 

We wandered among the buildings until 
night had set in ; we signed on the register of 
visitors, and contributed a small sum to the 
repairs of these decaying relics of the great- 
ness of Japan; we received some little gifts 
of impressions and prints in acknowledgment, 
and then rested in the neighboring inn, waited 
upon by fat, good-natured tea- girls, most cer- 
tainly belonging to to-day. 

We had now to take a long night ride, and 
at length we rushed out into the moonlight, 
our fourteen runners appearing and disappear- 
ing as we came in and out of the shadows in 
the long procession of our train. 

We whirled past the houses of the small town, 
indiscreetly close to the paper screens, lighted 
from within, against which were profiled the 
shadows of faces, sometimes with pipes or cups 
lifted to their lips or the outlines of coiffures 
piled up on the head — all pictures more Jap- 
anese than their very originals; then between 
rounded hills on which stood masses of maple 
trees ; then near to empty spaces of water ; 
then sank into dark hollows, at the bottom 
of which a river ran as fast the other way. 



I watched and looked as long as fatigue al- 
lowed, but fell asleep in the uncomfortable 
kuruma, waked every now and then by some 
sudden jolt to my extended arm and head. 

Occasionally I had dreamy glances at what 
I remember as a vast blue plain, with lofty col- 
orless mountains at one side, and perhaps I 
saw glimpses of the sea. The night air was 
cold in the hollows after the sweltering day, 
and I found my arm and face damp with the 
dew. A Japanese poet would have said that 

hotel in the morning to bid us a still more 
final good-by. Oye San alone remained faith- 
ful to his self-intrusted care of us, and deter- 
mined to see us as far as the land would allow ; 
that is to say, to the shores of Biwa Lake. 

The caravan was smaller now, diminished 
by our parting with Awoki the interpreter and 
the men necessary to trundle him about. 
Still we were a goodly company — nineteen 
men in all, of whom three were masters, one 
the servant, and the rest the runners who were 


it was but the spray from off the oars of some 
heavenly boat which sailed that night across 
the starry stream of the Milky Way. 

In the dawn we saw the white walls of the 
castle of the city of Osaka, and ran across its 
many bridges, all silent in the morning. 


Nagoya, September. — Notwithstanding the 
long parting, which kept us up very late, the 
same courteous Japanese friends were at the 

to get us and our baggage to Otzu on Biwa 
Lake long before noon. There was to be no 
novelty on our road, it being merely the high- 
way from the capital to the lake. It was a 
lovely morning, the sun long risen, and all the 
places and buildings now a part of our memo- 
ries glistening in the shadow and the dew. 
We turned our backs for the last time on Kiyo- 
midzu, and ran through the great gate of the 
temple near us, then, bumping down the steep 
steps under it, skirted the great wall of Dai 
Butzu and the interminable side of the Sanjiu 




sangendo (the hall of the thirty-three spaces), 1 
along which in old times the archers used to 
shoot. Then we gradually got out of the city, 
into the road filled with traffic going both 
ways. There seemed to be no break between 
town and country. Here and there the moun- 
tain side, covered with trees, descended to the 
road. But the effect was that of a long street, 
deep among hills, and continuously spotted 
with buildings. Long trains of beautiful black 
bulls, drawing lumber or merchandise or car- 
rying straw-covered bales, streamed peacefully 
along. We passed peasant women, hardy, tall, 
sometimes handsome, with scarlet undergowns 
held up ; occasionally one riding on a pack- 
horse, or in her place a child perched on the 
hump of the wooden saddle. Or, again, peas- 
ants bearing loads on their backs, or carriers 
with weighty merchandise swung between 
them on poles ; priests, young and old, step- 
ping gravely in their white, or yellow, or black 
dresses — some with umbrellas open, others, 
whose quicker step meant that they had not 
far to go (perhaps only to some wayside 
temple), protecting their shaven heads with 
outspread fan. Or a kuruma, usually with one 
runner, taking into town economically two 
1 Three hundred and eighty-nine feet long. 

women together, one old, one young, and fol- 
lowed by another kuruma carrying some old 
gentleman, very thin or very fat, the head of 
the family. Kurumas carrying Japanese tour- 
ists or travelers, with hideous billycock hats, 
or Anglo-Indian helmets, or wide straw hats 
a la mode de Third Avenue, these abominable 
head-pieces contrasting with their graceful 
gowns, as did their luggage, wrapped up in 
silk handkerchiefs, with their European travel- 
ing rugs. Or, again, other kurumas carrying 
unprotected females in pairs, with the usual in- 
different or forlorn look, or couples of young 
girls more gaily dressed, with flowery hairpins, 
the one evidently a chaperon to the other; 
then a Government official, <?// European, with 
hurrying runners ; sometimes, but rarely, the 
Japanese litter or kago, or several if for a party, 
their occupants lying at their ease as to their 
backs, but twisted into knots as to their feet, 
and swaying with the movement of the trot- 
ting carriers. Bent to one side by the heavy 
ridgepole, which passes too low to allow the 
head to lie in the axis of the body, sweet-eyed 
women's faces, tea-rose or peach-colored, 
looked up from the bamboo basket of the 
litter. With proper indifference their lords 
and masters looked at us obliquely. On the 



roofs was spread a miscellaneous quantity of 

From time to time troopers or officers, of 
course in European costume, mounted on 
Japanese chargers, cantered past. Two hours 
of this ; then the sides of the road, which had 
risen and fallen with hill and valley, melted 
away, and the harbor of Otzu and Lake Biwa 
and blue mountains over the water, and others 
sketched in the air, were spread before us in 
the blaze of sunlight seen through the cool 
shadow of the mountains. 

We rode down the hill to a little jetty, mar- 
velously like a North River dock, with big 
sheds where passengers were waiting, and a 
little steamer fastened to the wharf. We bade 
good-by for the last time to Oye San, who said 
many things that Ave appreciated but did not 
understand the words of, and who pointed to 
the square Japanese sails glittering in the far- 
off light, saying, " Fune, Fune ! " (" The boats, 
the boats ! ") We dismissed kurumas and kuru- 
maya and sailed off with Hakodate (the cour- 
ier) alone. We stretched ourselves on the 
upper deck, half in sun half in shadow, and 
blinked lazily at the distant blue mountains 
and the great sea-like lake. 

Two hours later we had landed at a long 
jetty, in a heavy sea, with tossing dark blue 
water, different from the quiet azure of our 
sail. The brisk wind, blowing the white clouds 
over the blue sky, was clear and cold. We 
got out of its reach, as I felt neuralgic, and 
tried to sleep in a little tea-house, waking to 
the screams of the tea-house girl, " Mairi- 
masho ! " and I had but time to get into the 
train. Whether it started from there or had ar- 
rived there,' I never knew. I had been glad to 
forget everything in dreamland. 

I remember little of my railroad ride, what 
with neuralgia and heat, and the effects of the 
dance of the little steamer on Lake Biwa. 
There were mountains and ravines, and vast 
engineering protections for our path, and every- 
where the evidence of a struggle with the many 
running waters we crossed or skirted. The blue 
and silver of the lake that we had crossed, and 
the sweetness of its air, were shut out in the 
dust and the heat of mountain sides. We had 
not seen the Eight Beauties of Biwa Lake. 1 The 
"Autumn Moon from Ishiyama " had set long 
before we passed, and the idea of other temples 

to be seen brought out A 's antagonism 

to more climbing, only to be rewarded by 
promenades through lanterns and shrines and 
confused struggling with dates and divinities. 
" The Evening Snow on Hira-yama " was not 
to fall until we should be across the Pacific ; 
nor could we ask of that blue September 
morning " The Blaze of Evening at Seta " nor 
1 Omi-no-hakkei. 

"The Evening Bell of Mii-dera" — though 
we heard the bell early, and wondered whether 
it were still uninjured, from the time when 
big Benkei carried it off and exchanged it for 
too much soup, exactly seven hundred years 
ago ; nor " Rain by Night at Kara-saki," the 
place of the famous pine tree, which was grow- 
ing, they say, twenty-four hundred years ago, 
when Jim-mu was emperor. There I might 
have met, perhaps, the " Old Man and the Old 
Woman " you have seen over and over again 
in the pictures and on the fans. (They are the 
spirits of the other old pine trees of Takasago 
and Sumiyoshi, and they are fond of visiting 
each other.) Nor did we see " The Wild Geese 
alighting at Katada," but I felt as if I had 

U • a: -M V;' r'.' #$& 




seen " The Boats sailing back from Yabase " 
and " The Bright Sky with a Breeze at Awadzu." 
If I had not, I still had seen boats sailing over 
and under as lovely a blue as can be spread 
by early September days. I suppose that our 
friend Oye San was trying to recall these last 
classical quotations to me when he bade me 
good-by at the landing in Otzu. An ocean rolls 

order, neat and trim, the thatch of every build- 
ing. What the prince was looking for is what 
we call the picturesque. To miss all the charms 
that ruin brings was too much for his esthetic 
soul, and he ordered the wheels of his chariot 
to be turned for home. So did not we. Neater 
and neater grew the inclosures, farms, and vil- 
lages; the fences had pretty gates, — curious 


between his Parnassus and ours, but he lives 
much nearer to the mood that once made 
beautiful the names of Tempe and Helicon 
and the winding Meander. 

With all this dreaming I fell asleep, and woke 
free from pain, but stupid and unimpression- 
able, as our train stopped at the little station 
from which we were to ride to Gifu. This was 
a little, new way-station (of course I don't 
remember its name), so like and so unlike one 
of ours, with the same look of the railroad be- 
ing laid down — "imposed" — on an earth 
which did not understand what it all meant 
— grass struggling to get back to the sides of 
filled-up ditches ; timbers lying about ; new, 
astonished buildings, in one of which we 
washed, and waited, and dined. Meanwhile 
Hakodate went after the runners who were 
to drag us on our afternoon ride, and then if 
" we suited " to run with us the whole week, 
thirty-five miles a day, along the Tokaido, 
back towards Yokohama. 

When all was ready it was late afternoon, 
and our procession ran along what seemed to 
be a vast plain of table-land, with high moun- 
tains for an edge. All seemed as clear and 
neat as the air we rode in. Somewhere there 
we must have passed the hill of " The turning 
back of the Chariot " : this means that, long 
ago, that is to say about 1470, the regent 
Yoshimoto, while traveling here, found that 
the inhabitants, to do him honor, had put in 

patterns of bamboo pickets, — a far-away, out- 
of-the-world flavor of Holland or Flanders. 
Even the ordinary setting out of wayside 
trees, in this province of forestry, insisted on 
the analogy, confused perhaps with a dream of 
Lombard plains and mountains in a cool blue 
distance, for the mind insists on clinging to 
reminiscences, as if afraid to trust itself to the 
full sea of new impressions. 

As I rode along, so neat and clean was 
each picture, framed in sunlight if we were 
in shadow, or in clear shade when we were 
in sunlight, that I thought I could remember 
enough small facts for sketches and notes 
when I should get to Gifu. We reached Gifu 
in the early twilight, and had no special one 
impression ; we were framed in by the streets, 
and confused by turning corners, and disturbed 
by anxiety to get in. But we had one great 
triumph. Our guide was new to the place — 
as we were; and we chose our inn at our own 
sweet will, with a feeling of authority and per- 
sonal responsibility delicious to experience 
after such ignominy of guidance. Up we went 
to our rooms, and opening the shojis 1 looked 
out upon the river, which seemed broad as a 
great lake. Our house was right upon it, and 
the open casement framed nothing but water 
and pointed mountains, stealing away in the 
obscure clearness of a colorless twilight. The 

1 Sliding screens, which take the place of our win- 



running of the river, sloping down from the 
hills on a bed of pebbles, cut off the noises of 
the town, if there were any, and the silence 
was like that of far-away country heights. In 
this semi-painful tension the day's pictures 
disappeared from my mind. I was all pre- 
pared to have something happen, for which 
I should have been listening, when suddenly 
our host appeared, to say that the boats were 
coming down the river. The chilly evening 
air gave us new freshness, and off we started, 
deaf to the remonstrances of Hakodate, who 
had prepared and set out his very best for 
supper. We rushed past the artist in cookery, 
whose feelings I could yet appreciate, and 
plunged after our host into the dark streets. 
In a few minutes we were by the riverside, 
and could see far off what we took for our boat, 
with its roof and lanterns. The proffered backs 
of our lantern-bearing attendants gave the 
solution of how we were to get to it. Strad- 
dling our human horses, we were carried far 
out into the shallow, pebbly river, landed into 
the boat, and poled out into deeper water, 
nothing to be seen but the night and the con- 
ical hills, one of which I fancied to be Inaba, 
where was once Nobunaga's castle. Some faint 
mists were white in the distance, as if lighted by 
a rising moon. At no great distance from us, 
perhaps at a quarter of a mile, a light flickered 
over the water. On our approach we could 
distinguish a man connected with it, who ap- 
parently walked on the dark surface. He was 
evidently a fisherman or a shrimper, and his 
movements had all the strangeness of some 
long-legged aquatic bird. He knew his path, 
and, far out, followed some track of ford, add- 
ing to the loneliness as does a crane in a 
marshy landscape. Then I saw him no more, 
for he headed up the river towards an opening 
between the hills. Suddenly a haze of light 
rounded the corner of the nearest mountain, 
then grew into a line of fire coming towards 
us. Above the rustle of the river's course, and 
our own against it, came the beating of a cry 
in unison. The line of flame broke into many 
fires, and we could see the boats rushing down 
upon us. As quickly as I can write it, they 
came in an even line, wide apart — perhaps 
fifty feet or so — enough for us to pass between, 
whereupon we reversed our movement and 
drifted along with them. In the front of each 
boat, hung upon a bent pole, blazed a large 
cresset filled with pine knots, making above 
a cloud of smoke, starred with sparks and long 
needles of red cinders. Below in the circle of 
each light, and on its outer rim, swam many 
birds, glossy black and white cormorants, strain- 
ing so at the cords that held them that they 
appeared to be dragging the boats. As they 
spread like a fan before the dark shadow of 
Vol. XL. — 114. 

the bows the cords which fastened them glis- 
tened or were black in the light. Each string 
ran through the fingers of the master-fisher 
at the bows, and was fastened to his waist 
and lost in the glittering straw of his rain-skirt. 
Like a four-in-hand driver, he seemed to feel 
his birds' movements. His fingers loosened 
or tightened, or, as suddenly, with a clutch 
pulled back. Then came a rebellious flutter- 
ing, and the white glitter of fish in the beaks 
disappeared — unavailingly ; each bird was 
forcibly drawn up to the gunwale, and seized 
by the neck encircled by its string-bearing 
collar. Then a squeeze — a white fish glittered 
out again and was thrown back into the boat. 
The bird scuttled away, dropped back into 
the water, and, shaking itself, was at work 
again. They swam with necks erect, their 
eyes apparently looking over everything, and 
so indifferent to small matters as to allow the 
big cinders to lie unnoticed on their oily, flat 
heads. But, every few seconds, one would 
stoop down, then throw back its head wildly 
with a fish crosswise in its mouth. When that 
fish was a small one it was allowed by the 
master of the bird to remain in the capacious 
gullet. Each pack guided by a master varied 
in numbers, but I counted thirteen fastened 
to the waist of the fisherman nearest to us. 
Behind him stood another poling; then far- 
ther back an apprentice, with one single bird, 
was learning to manage his feathered tools. 
In the stern stood the steersman, using a long 
pole. Every man shouted, as huntsmen en- 
couraging a pack, " Hoo ! Hoo ! Hoo ! " — 
making the cry whose rhythm we had heard 
when the flotilla bore down upon us. 

Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour more, 
passed as we kept alongside with motionless 
celerity. I tried to sketch in the insufficient 
light — making sometimes one sketch right 
upon another, so little could I see my lines in 
the treacherous light. Then the boats swerved 
off and were driven to the shore together, or 
as far as we could get to it, in the shallow 
water. Above us rose the steep green hillside, 
the trees and rocks lit up in an arabesque of 
light and dark by the now diminished flames. 

The birds rested, standing in the water, 
preening their oily backs and white bellies, 
and flapping their ragged wings, which seemed 
to have been clipped. The apprentice caressed 
his bird, the fisherman and the steerers laughed 
and exchanged jokes and chatted generally, 
with all the good nature and making light of 
hard work which is so essentially Japanese. 

Then the birds began to fight, and to show 
that peace was not their pleasure. Fresh pine 
knots were thrown into the cressets ; each 
man took his place ; the polers pushed oft"; 
the birds strained at the strings; and all da 



capo. A little longer we watched, and then we 
let the boats glide past us; the fires faded 
again into a haze of light as they went down 
the river towards the bridges of the town, now 
dotted with people. 

Then we were carried to the shore as we 
had left it, and were piloted home through 
the streets, now filled with lanterns and move- 
ment. We found our outraged artist in cook- 
ery still indignant over our neglect of food, 
but he was gradually appeased, and made up 
for his hungry masters a fairly sufficient meal. 
Cigars, a scrutiny of my despairing sketches, 
and a long look at the lovely melancholy of 
the river and mountains before we closed the 
shojis for the night. 


September 28. — I am writing in a kago. 1 
You do not know what an achievement this is, 
but I shall explain later on what a kago is, why 
I am in it, and why it is not exactly the place 
to expect a letter from. To begin at the begin- 
ning, we were yesterday afternoon at Kambara, 
on the gulf of Suruga Bay. We had eaten 
there in an inn by the water, while I watched 
through the screens the waving of a palm 
tree in the wind, which was now blowing 
autumnally and had cleared the sky and en- 
livened us with a hope of continuous view of 
Fuji. Along the beach, as we rode away, the 
breakers ran far up the sand, and the water 
was green as emerald from the brown, wet 
shore to the distant blue haze of the ocean in 
the south. At the end of the great curve of 
the gulf stretched the lines of green and pur- 
ple mountains, which run far off into Idzu,and 
above them stood Fuji in the sky, very pale 
and clear, with one enormous band of cloud 
half way up its long slope, and melting into 
infinite distance towards the ocean. Its near- 
est point hung half across the mountain's base, 
more solid than the mountain itself, and cast 
a long shadow upon it for miles of distance. 
Above, the eye could but just detect a faint 
haze in the delicate blue of the sky. Best of 
all weather, we thought; a breeder of bad 
weather, according to our men, who, alas, 
knew more of it than we did. For a mile now, 
perhaps, we ran along between the sea and the 
abrupt green wall of hills, so steep that we 
could not see them, and turning sharply around 
a corner beheld Fuji, now filling the entire 
field of sight, seeming to rise even from below 
us into the upper sky, and framed at its base 
by near green mountains; these opened as a 
gate, and showed the glittering streak of the 
swollen Fujikawa, the swiftest river in Japan. 
1 Pronounced Kang'go. 

The lower eastern slope was cut off by 
cloud, but its western line, ineffably delicate 
in clearness, stretched to the left out of our 
range of vision. Below its violet edge the 
golden slope spread in the sun, of the color of 
an autumn leaf. Along the center of this prov- 
ince of space the shadow of the great cloud 
rested. The marks of the spurs of the moun- 
tain were as faint as the streaks of the wind on 
a grain field. Its cone was of a deep violet 
color, and as free of snow as though this had 
been the day of poetic tradition upon which 
the snow entirely disappears to fall again the 
following night. No words can recall ade- 
quately the simple splendor of the divine 

mountain. As A remarked, it was worth 

coming to far Japan for this single day. 

Right into this marvelous picture we rode, 
through green plantations and rice fields, which 
edged the bases of the nearest hills and lay 
between us and the river. There we found no 
means of crossing. All bridges had been car- 
ried away by the flood. The plain was inun- 
dated ; travelers had been detained for a week 
by a sea of waters, and were scattered there 
and in neighboring villages, filling every rest- 
ing-place; and, worst of all, the police officials 
would not allow us to tempt the fishermen to 
make the dangerous crossing. 

The occasion was a solemn one. The police 
representative, upon seeing us come in person 
to request help, slipped off the easy Japanese 
dress which he was wearing in these days of 
forced idleness, and reappeared from behind 
the screen clad in his official European cos- 
tume. I have no doubt that our interpreter 
explained to him what important persons we 
were, and what important letters we bore to 
important people of the land, for he kindly 
suggested that we might sail past the mouth 
of the river, from near Kambara, whence we 
had just come, so as to land far away from the 
spread of all this devastation ; and he offered 
to send a deputy with a requisition for a junk 
and sufficient sailors, from the nearest fishing 
village on the bay — and so we returned. 
While Hakodate and the messenger went on 

to make all arrangements, A and myself 

stopped at the place where we had had our 
view of Fuji, to make a more careful sketch. 
You can have no idea of how much closer the 
clearer mind worked out the true outline of the 
mountain, which my excitement had height- 
ened at least a couple of thousand feet; nor 
should I forget how my two-legged horse of a 
runner held my paint-box for me, and seemed to 
know exactly when and where I wished to dip 
my brush. It seemed to me that only a few mo- 
ments had passed when the messenger returned 
to say that the boat was ready to launch, and 
that we must hurry to be out at sea before 



sunset; this too in view of the storm, which 
we might escape if we hurried. The implied 
threat made no impression on me. The picture 
before us had not changed any more than if 
painted by man. The great cloud hung fixed, 
apparently, in the same place. All was still : 
perhaps in the uppermost sky one could dis- 
tinguish some outlines of white in the blue. 
Still we hurried off, and arrived upon a scene 
of confusion and wild excitement. A captain 
and a crew had been found ; their boat stood 
high up on the crest of the surf, now beating 
on the shore, and carried the line with which 
to pull out the small junk, still far up on the 
beach. The wheels of our kurumas had been 
taken off and their bodies had been placed in 
the hold. 

As we got on board at least a hundred 
naked men pushed and tugged to start the 
junk upon the slope of sand. The sun was 
setting suddenly behind the headland of Shi- 
zuoka, and the air was filled with the moisture 
from the sea ; a rosy bloom, pink as the clouds 
themselves, filled the entire air, near and far, 
towards the light. On the other side the dis- 
tance was fading into gray and violet mist. 
The great mountain was still a great clear 
mass, but colorless, like the northern sky be- 
hind it, while bathed in the color of fairy- 
land we rose and fell over the breakers — the 
spray, the waves, the boat, the bodies of the 
men, glistening and suffused with pink. 

No painter ever saw a more ideal light. 
And suddenly it faded, leaving us in a still 
brilliant twilight, through which we looked at 
the tossing of the hazy sea. The mast was 
lifted and set, the great square sail was hoisted, 
and the captain took hold of the ponderous 
tiller. We stretched ourselves on the poop 
deck, prepared for a dance of seventeen miles ; 
then under my protecting blanket I fell asleep 
— to wake and see before me a sheet of rain. 
The predicted storm had flooded us; we lay 
in the water that covered the deck, our water- 
proofs insufficient, and glad to be able to find 
some protection under the Japanese rain-coats 
of straw, whose merits I had not yet under- 

From under my shelter I could see that our 
mast was lowered, and that the captain and 
the sailors forward were working at the heavy 
sweeps. Below, under hatches, I could hear 
the groaning of our seasick runners. Between 
the gusts of rain came the voice of the cap- 
tain, now in the straining agony of seasickness, 
next keeping up a steady, chanted talk with a 
mate forward. A lantern was lashed to the 
post of the tiller, and the captain's bare feet 
rose and fell with his steps at the great oar, 
showing sharply the action of tendons and 
muscles. I tried to sketch under my cover, 

then dozed, — sleepy with the rocking and the 
cold and the wet, — and with every waking 
hearing the whistling of the wind and the con- 
tinuous monotonous voice in a language not 
understood. So passed the night. 

We saw the morning break on a lonely, 
high, gray bank, streaked by the sea lines of 
different tides, and crowned with a line of pines 
of all sizes and shapes, stretching for miles 
dark green against the white clouds, which 
were as solid as they, and which covered the 
base of the mountains behind. Out of these 
white banks stood dull blue peaks, while the 
highest mountains were lost in cloud, and all 
was gray and desolate with the rain. The surf 
broke on the sand, not more than a hundred 
yards from us. We lay there some time, wait- 
ing for more light, for all wind had ceased; 
then four men swam ashore with a rope, and 
towed us along the bank. The surf had abated, 
but landing was too difficult, and we were to 
be dragged, while our other men worked at 
the big sculls and pushed us along. We wore 
along four miles to a little bar, over which we 
were pulled by the men now in the water into 
a singular little harbor with an entrance not 
more than a hundred feet wide. On this the 
surf broke gently — white on the gray sea. To 
our left the backs of two sand spits dotted the 
water, and on the right, looking out to sea, 
rose the edge of a grove of pines, with four or 
five houses, heavy roofed and thatched, against 
its green darkness. 

On the curve of the beach before it stood 
a high pointed rock almost touched by the 
water, edged around and covered with pines— 
all but the perpendicular side facing the har- 
bor. On its summit a little red temple, whose 
back we saw. On the other side, landwards, 
as we left our boat, and followed our guides 
ashore around its base, a hundred steps ran 
straight up to the front of the little shrine — 
so steep and sudden that we could just look 
along their edge. From the high rock, re- 
cessed, ran back the shore, on which stood in 
a row three large junks with their sterns to 
the sea — behind them trees and houses. On 
the opposite side of the little harbor four of 
our men, up to their middle or up to their 
armpits in water, slowly dragged our junk 
nearer to the shore. All was quiet and gray — 
the men reflected in the moving water, the 
boat creaking along slowly. As I went up the 
beach, following our guide and the boatmen, I 
thought how like this was to the Homeric 
haven — the grove looking out to sea and fre- 
quented by " fowls maritimal " ; the sacred 
rock ; the meadows and the little stream ; 
the long galleys drawn up on the beach. The 
little houses of the fishing village were sur- 
rounded by gardens, and their walls largely 



made of plaited bamboo. There was no inn, 
but we found a house half shop, and were 
welcomed to some tea and to a room which the 
family hastened to abandon for us. There were 
only two rooms besides the entrance, which 
was a large passage floored with earth, and 
along one side of it a raised surface, from 
which began the level of our flooring. 

Sliding partitions, hurriedly run up, made 
us a room, but the outside screens were full 
of holes, through which, in a few minutes, 
peered all the women and children of the vil- 
lage, who occasionally even pushed aside the 
screens to see more completely. The little pas- 
sage in front of our open room was filled with 
girls and children intent upon our ways of 
smoking, of taking tea, and of eating — for we 
had biscuits with us, and fifteen hours at least 
without food had made us fairly hungry. 
Meanwhile the men landed their wagons and 
the trunks, and took their meal of rice, hastily 
made up, on the ledge of the platform on which 
we sat. This they did in a row, the whole 
twenty eating quietly but rapidly, — I was 
going to say firmly, — shoving into their mouths 
the rice from the bowls, and tearing with their 
fingers the fish just cooked. Meanwhile, among 
all the ugliness around us in women, shone 
out, with beautiful complexions, — lost in the 
others by exposure to wind and sun, by hard 
work, and probably by child-bearing, — three 
girls, who stood before us a long time, with 
sweet faces and bright eyes and teeth. They 
stared hard at us until stared at in return, when 
they dispersed, to watch us again like children 
from the doors and from the kitchen. 

Our hostess, small, fat, good-natured, and 
polite, showing black-lacquered teeth between 
rosy lips, like ripe seeds in a watermelon, 
bustled about hurrying everything, and at the 
end of our meal our host appeared — from the 
kitchen apparently — and knelt before us. Poor 
and ragged as the house was, with ceilings black 
with age and smoke, and screens torn and worn 
by rubbing, the little tokonoma held a fairly 
good picture, and a pretty vase with flowers 
below it. But it was evidently one of the poorest 
of places, and had never seen a foreigner in it. 
This may have been the cause of the appear- 
ance of the ubiquitous Japanese policeman 
within five minutes of our arrival. He alone 
betrayed no curiosity, and disappeared with 
dignity on getting our credentials. 

The rain still held off. We entered our kuru- 
mas, now ready, and hastened to the main 
road which we were to find at Numadsu, if 
that be the name of the place. But, alas ! the 
rain came down, and my views were confined 
within the outline of an umbrella. My only 
adventure was stopping at some hovel on the 
road to buy some more of that heavy yellow 

oiled paper which replaces the leather apron 
that we usually find attached to our more civil- 
ized carriages. By and by I consented to have 
the hood of my wagon put up, through which 
I could see little more than the thatched backs 
of my runners, their bowls of hats, off which 
the rain spattered upon their straw cloaks and 
aprons, and their wet brown legs, lifted with 
the regularity of automatons. It was getting 
cold, too, and women under their umbrellas 
wore the graceful short overcoat they call 
haori, and tottered over the wet ground on 
high wooden pattens. 

This I noticed as we came into Mishima, 
from which place we were to begin our ascent 
up the Hakone Pass. On our way, were it to 
clear, we might see Fuji again — at any rate 
if it cleared in the least we would enjoy the 
mountains. Meanwhile we shivered at lunch, 
trying to get into corners where the wind 
would not leak through the cracks of the 
shojis, and beginning to experience the dis- 
comforts of Japanese inns. And now my bash- 
fulness having gradually abandoned me, I 
could take my hot bath, separated from the 
household by a screen not over high, over 
which the fat servant girls kindly handed me 
my towels. Excuse these trivial details, but I 
cannot otherwise give you the " local color," 
and my journal is one of small things. Had I 
come here in the old days when I first fell in 
love with Japan, I might have met with some 
thrilling experience in an inn. 

I might have had such an experience as our 
poor friend Fauvel met with not far from here. 
I might have met some young sworded men, 
anxious to maintain their dignity and ripe for 
a quarrel with the foreigner. Do you remem- 
ber that he jostled the sword of some young- 
ster — " the sword, the soul of the Samurai " — 
which its owner had left upon the floor. The 
insult would have been impossible to explain 
away had not some sensible Japanese official 
decided that a man who was so careless with 
his sword as to leave it on the mat, instead of 
on the reputable sword-rack, had no right to 
complain of another's inadvertence. 

I sometimes wonder which of the courteous 
persons I meet, when age allows the supposi- 
tion, obeyed these rules when they were 
younger ; which ones now dressed in black 
broadcloth wore the great helmet with branch- 
ing horns, or strapped the two great swords at 
his waist. And I am lost in respect and be- 
wilderment to think that all this wondrous 
change — as great as any that the world can 
have seen — was effected with such success and 
accepted in such a lofty spirit. 

We were now to give up the kuruma and to 
travel by the kago, which, you will remember, 
I promised to describe. The kago is a curious 



institution, partly superseded by the kuruma,but 
lingering in many places, and necessary where 
the pack-horse would be unsafe, and where one 
would otherwise have to walk. It consists of a 
small litter hung by stiff bamboos from a great 
pole, over which is steadied a little matted 
roof, from which various protections from rain 
or sun can be dropped. The kago has its dis- 
comforts : one lies down in it all doubled up, 
with legs crossed as far as they can be made 
to, because the basket, which is the body of 
the litter, is only about three feet long ; and 
with head to one side, because if one lifted it, 
it might strike the ridgepole. The proper way 
is to lie not quite in the axis. This is all the 
more natural, as the men at either end do not 
carry it in a straight line, but at an angle, so 
that from one side you can see a little in front 
of you. 

Into the kagos we were folded, and in a tor- 
rent of rain we departed. I resisted my being 
shut up in my litter by the oiled-paper sides 
that are used in the rain, and I depended 
upon mackintosh and blanket to protect me. 
The rain came down in sheets. We trotted up- 
hill, the men going on for a few minutes, then 
changing shoulders, and then again another 
pair taking their turn — four to each litter. 
Meanwhile they sang, as they trotted, some- 
thing which sounded like " Hey, hey, hey, het 
tue hey." The road was almost all paved, and 
in the steeper ascents was very bad. 

And now I began to experience some novel 
sensations not easy to describe. My feet were 
turned in upon the calves of the legs like an 
Indian Buddha's, and I soon began to ache 
along sciatic lines ; then elsewhere, then every- 
where. Then I determined to break with this 
arrangement, as anger seized me; fortunately 
a sort of paralysis set in and I became torpid 
and gradually resigned ; and gradually also I 
fell asleep with the curious motion and the 
chant of the men, and woke accustomed, and 
so I am writing. 

I can just remember large trees and roads 
protected by them; some places where we 
seemed alone in the world, where we left trees 
and stood in some narrow path, just able to see 
above its sides — all else shut out of existence 
by the rain ; and I have all along enjoyed the 
novel sensation of moving on the level of the 
plants and shrubs. 

We are now going downhill again, and can 
look down an avenue of great trees and many 
steps which we descend. We are coming to 
Hakone ; I can see the lake beyond a Torii, 

and at the first corner of the road under the 
trees begins the village. 

Miyanoshita, September 28. — Again the 
kago, and the rain as soon as we departed. I 
turned as well as I could, to find the lovely 
lines, now lost in general shapes and values, 
blurred into masses. Once the light opened on 
the top of some high hill and I could see, with 
wild roses right against me, some flat mile- 
stone marked with an image against the edges 
of distant mountains, and a sky of faint twi- 
light pink ; or again we pattered along in 
wet grass, past a great rock with a great bas- 
relief image — a Jizo (patron of travelers), 
sitting in the loneliness with a few flowers be- 
fore him. Then in the rain, and mingling with 
the mist, thicker cloudings marked the steam 
from hot springs, which make these parts of 
the mountains a resort for invalids and bathers. 

Soon the darkness : then pine knots were 
lighted and we descended among the trees, in 
a path like a torrent, the water running along 
between the stones which the feet of the bear- 
ers seemed to find instinctively. The arms of 
the torch-bearers were modeled in wild lights 
and shadows ; the hats of the men made a 
dusky halo around their heads ; the rain-coats 
of straw glistened with wet ; occasionally 
some branch came out distinct in every leaf, 
between the smoke and the big sparks and em- 
bers. The noise of torrents near by rose above 
the rain and the patter and the song of the 
men. The steepness of the path seemed only 
to increase the rapidity of our runners, who 
bounded along from stone to stone. After a 
time anxiety was lost in the excitement of 
the thing and in our success, but quite late in 
our course I heard behind me a commotion — - 

one of A 's runners had slipped and the 

kago had come down ; no one hurt - — the kago 
keeps its occupant packed too tight. Then 
the path left the wild descent; we trotted 
through regular muddy roads, stopped once 
on disbanding our torch-bearers, and reached 
the Europeanized hotel at Miyanoshita, where 
I intend to sleep to-night on a European 
bed, with a bureau and a looking-glass in my 
room. One little touch not quite like ours, as 
a gentle lady of uncertain age offers me her 
services for the relief of fatigue by massage, 
before I descend to drink Bass's ale in the din- 
ing-room, alongside of Britons from the neigh- 
boring Yokohama, only one day's journey 

John La Farge. 




MONG the numerous 
salons of the noblesse 
there was one which, 
through the brilliant 
gifts of its hostess, 
stands out among 
the most famous of 
the eighteenth cen- 
tury. Though far 
less democratic and 
cosmopolitan than that of Mme. Geoffrin, with 
which it was contemporary, it had a distinct 
and original tone. Linked by birth with the 
oldest of the nobility, allied by innate qualities 
of intellect with the most distinguished in the 
world of letters, Mme. du Deffand appropriated 
the best in thought, while retaining the spirit 
of an elegant and refined social life. Exclu- 
sive by nature and instinct, as well as by tra- 
dition, she could not dispense with the arts 
and amenities which are the fruit of gene- 
rations of ease ; but the energy and force of 
her intellect could as little tolerate shallowness 
and pretension, however disguised beneath 
the graceful tyranny of forms. 

Hence her salon offers a sort of compro- 
mise between the freedom of the philosophical 
coteries and the frivolities of the purely fashion- 
able ones. It included the most noted of the 
men of letters, those who belonged to the old 
aristocracy and a few to whom nature had 
given a prescriptive title of nobility, as well 
as the flower of the great world. To this com- 
bination her own caustic wit, her clear intelli- 
gence, and her brilliant conversational gifts 
added a tone of individuality that placed her 
salon at the head of the social centers of the 
time in brilliancy and in esprit. 

In this group of wits, litterateurs, philoso- 
phers, statesmen, churchmen, diplomats, and 
men of rank the woman herself is always the 
most striking figure. The art of self-suppres- 
sion she clearly did not possess. But the art 
of so blending a choice society that her own 
vivid personality was a pervading note of har- 
mony, she had to an eminent degree. 

She could easily have made a mark upon her 

time through her intellectual gifts, without the 

factitious aid of the men with whom her name 

is associated. But society was her passion — 


society animated by intellect, sparkling with 
wit, and expressing in all its forms the art 
instincts of her race. She never aspired to 
authorship, but she has left a voluminous cor- 
respondence in which one reads the varying 
phases of a singularly capricious character. 

In her old age she found refuge from a de- 
vouring ennui in writing her own memoirs. 
Merciless to herself, as to others, she veils noth- 
ing, revealing her own frailties with a freedom 
that reminds one of Rousseau. 

It is not the portrait of an estimable woman 
that we can paint from these records ; but 
in her intellectual force, her social gifts, and 
her moral weakness she is one of the best 
exponents of an age that trampled upon the 
finest flowers of the soul in the blind pursuit 
of pleasure and the cynical worship of a hard 
and unpitying realism. Living from 1697 to 
1780, she saw the train laid for the Revo- 
lution and died in time to escape its hor- 
rors. She traversed the whole experience of 
the women of her world, with the indepen- 
dence and abandon of a nature that was mod- 
erate in nothing. 

It is true she felt the emptiness of this arid 
existence and had an intellectual perception 
of its errors, but she saw nothing better. " All 
conditions appear to me equally unhappy, from 
the angel to the oyster," is the burden of her 
hopeless refrain. 

She reveals herself to us as two distinct char- 
acters. The one best known is hard, bitter, 
coldly analytic, and mocks at everything bor- 
dering upon sentiment or feeling. The other, 
which underlies this, and of which we have 
rare glimpses, is frank, tender, loving even to 
weakness, and forever at war with the barren- 
ness of a period whose worst faults she seems 
to have embodied, and whose keenest penal- 
ties she certainly suffered. 

Voltaire, the lifelong friend whom she loved 
and critically measured, was three years old 
when she was born; Mme. de Sevigne had 
been dead nearly a year. Of a noble family in 
Burgundy, Mile. Marie de Vichy-Chamroud 
was brought to Paris at six years of age and 
placed in the Convent of St. Madeleine de 
Troisnel, where she was educated after the 
superficial fashion which she so much regrets 



in later years. She speaks of herself as a ro- 
mantic, imaginative child, but she began very 
early to shock the pious sisters by her dawning 

One of the nuns had a wax figure of the 
infant Jesus, which she discovered to have 
been a doll formerly dressed to represent the 
Spanish fashions to Anne of Austria. This was 
the first blow to her illusions and had a very 
perceptible influence upon her life. She pro- 
nounced it a deception. Eight days of soli- 
tude with a diet of bread and water failed to 
restore her reverence. " It does not depend 
upon me to believe or disbelieve," she said. 

The eloquent and insinuating Massillon was 
called in to talk with her. " She is charming," 
was his remark as he left her after two hours 
of conversation; adding thoughtfully, " Give 
her a five-cent catechism." 

Skeptical by nature and saturated with the 
freethinking spirit of the time, she reasoned to 
the end that all religion was, au fond, only pa- 
ganism disguised. In later years, when her 
isolated soul longed for some tangible support, 
she spoke regretfully of the philosophic age 
which destroyed beliefs by explaining and ana- 
lyzing everything. 

But a beautiful, clever, high-spirited girl of 
sixteen is apt to feel her youth all-sufficing. 
It is certain that she had no inclination to- 
wards the life of a religiense, and the country 
quickly became insupportable after her return 
to its provincial society. Ennui took posses- 
sion of her. She was glad even to go to 
confessional for the sake of telling her thoughts 
to some one. She complained bitterly that 
the life of women compelled dependence upon 
the conduct of others, submission to all ills 
and all consequences. Long afterwards she 
said that she would have married the devil if 
he had been clothed as a gentleman and as- 
sured her a moderate life. 

But a husband was at last found for her, 
and at twenty-one she was glad to become the 
wife of the Marquis du Deffand, — a good but 
uninteresting man, much older than herself, — 
merely to escape the monotony of her secluded 

Brilliant, fascinating, restless, eager to see 
and to learn, she felt herself in her element in 
the gay world of Paris. She confessed that, 
for the moment, she almost loved her husband 
for bringing her there. But the moment was a 
short one. They did not even settle down to 
what a witty Frenchman calls the " politeness 
of two indifferences." It is a curious commen- 
tary upon the times that the beautiful but no- 
torious Mme. Parabere, who introduced her at 
once into her own unscrupulous world and the 
petits soupers of the regent, condoled with the 
spiritnelle young bride upon her marriage, re- 

gretting that she had not taken the easy vows 
of a chanoinesse, as Mme. de Tencin had 

" In that case," she said, " you would have 
been free; well placed everywhere; with the 
stability of a married woman ; a revenue which 
permits one to live and accept aid from others ; 
the independence of a widow, without the ties 
which a family imposes; unquestioned rank, 
which you would owe to no one ; indulgence, 
and impunity. For these advantages there is 
only the trouble of wearing a cross, which is 
becoming ; black or gray habits, which can be 
made as magnificent as one likes ; a little im- 
perceptible veil, and a knitting sheath." 

Under such teaching she was not long in 
taking her own free and independent course, 
which was reckless even in that age of laxity. 
At her first supper at the Palais Royal she 
met Voltaire and also the regent, whom she 
fascinated for a few days. The counsels of her 
aunt, the dignified Duchessede Luynes, availed 
nothing. Her husband was speedily sent off 
on some mission to the provinces, and she 
plunged into the current. Once afterwards, in 
a fit of ennui, she recalled him, frankly stating 
her position. But she quickly wearied of him 
again, grew dull, silent, lost her vivacity, and 
fell into a profound melancholy. Her friend 
Mme. Parabere took it upon herself to explain 
to him the facts, and he kindly relieved her for- 
ever of his presence, leaving a touching and 
pathetic letter which gave her a moment of 
remorse in spite of her lightened heart. This 
sin against good taste the Parisian world could 
not forgive, and even her friends turned against 
her for a time. But the Duchesse du Maine 
came to her aid with an all-powerful in- 
fluence, and restored her finally to its good 

For some years she passed the greater part of 
her time at Sceaux and was a favorite at this 
lively little court. It is needless to trace here 
the details of a career which gives us little to 
admire and much to condemn. 

It was about 1740 when her salon became 
more or less noted as a center for the fashion- 
able and literary world of Paris. Montesquieu 
and D'Alembert were then among her intimate 
friends. Of the latter she says : " The simplic- 
ity of his manners, the purity of his morals, the 
air of youth, the frankness of character, joined 
to all his talents, astonished at first those who 
saw him." It is said to have been through her 
zeal that he was admitted to the Academy so 
young. Among others who formed her fa- 
miliar circle were her tender and devoted 
friend Pont de Veyle ; the Chevalier d'Aydie ; 
Formont, the " spirituel idler and amiable ego- 
tist," who was one of the three whom she con- 
fesses really to have loved; and President 



Henault, who brought always a fund of lively- 
anecdote and agreeable conversation. This 
world of fashion and letters, slightly seasoned 
with philosophy, is also the world of Mme. de 
Luxembourg, of the brilliant Mme. de Mire- 
poix, of the Prince and Princesse de Beauvau, 
and of the lovely Duchesse de Choiseul, a 
femme iV esprit and " mistress of all the ele- 
gances," whose gentle virtues fall like a ray 
of sunlight across the dark pages of this period. 
It is the world of les convenances, the world in 
which a sin against taste is worse than a sin 
against morals, the world which hedges itself 
in by a thousand unwritten laws that save it 
from boredom. 

After the death of the Duchesse du Maine 
Mme. du Deffand retired to the little convent 
of St. Joseph, where, after the manner of many 
women of rank with small fortunes, she had 
her menage and received her friends. " I have 
a very pretty apartment," she writes to Vol- 
taire ; " very convenient ; I only go out for 
supper. I do not sleep elsewhere, and I make 
no visits. My society is not numerous, but I 
am sure it will please you; and if you were 
here you would make it yours. I have seen 
for some time many savants and men of let- 
ters ; I have not found their society delightful." 
The good nuns objected a little to Voltaire at 
first, but seem to have been finally reconciled 
to the visits of the arch-heretic. At this time 
Mme. du Deffand had supposably reformed her 
conduct, if not her belief. 

Here she continued to entertain the flower 
of the nobility and the stars of the literary and 
scientific world. But while the most famous 
of the men of letters were welcome in her 
salon, the tone was far from pedantic or even 
earnest. It was a society of conventional peo- 
ple, the elite of fashion and intelligence, who 
amused themselves in an intellectual but not 
too serious way. Montesquieu, who liked those 
houses in which he could pass with his every- 
day wit, said, "I love this woman with all 
my heart ; she pleases and amuses me ; it is 
impossible to feel a moment's ennui in her 
company." She disliked the enthusiasm of the 
philosophers unless it was hidden behind the 
arts of the courtier, as in Voltaire, whose deli- 
cate satire charmed her. Diderot came once, 
"eyed her epicurean friends," and came no 
more. The air was not free enough. When 
at home she had three or four at supper every 
day, often a dozen, and, once a week, a grand 
supper. All the intellectual interests and fash- 
ions of the time are found here. La Harpe 
reads a translation from Sophocles and his own 
tragedy. Clairon, the actress in vogue, recites 
the roles of Fhedrc and Agrippine, Lekain 
reads Voltaire, and Goldoni a comedy of his 
own, which the hostess finds tiresome. New 

books, new plays, the last song, the latest word 
of the philosophers — all are talked about, 
eulogized, or dismissed with a sarcasm. The 
caustic wit of Mme. du Deffand is feared, but 
it fascinates. She delights in clever repartees 
and sparkling epigrams. Everything is touched 
lightly, but the touch must be swift and sure. 
A shaft of wit silences the most complacent 
of monologues. " What tiresome book are you 
reading ? " she said one day to a friend who 
talked too earnestly and too long, taking easy 
refuge in her blindness. 

Her criticisms are always severe. "There 
are only two pleasures for me in the world — 
society and reading." She writes: "What so- 
ciety does one find ? Imbeciles, who utter only 
commonplaces, who know nothing, feel noth- 
ing, think nothing ; a few people of talent, full 
of themselves, jealous, envious, wicked, whom 
one must hate or scorn." Still it is life alone 
that interests her. Though she is not satisfied 
with people, she has always the hope that she will 
be. In literature she likes only letters and me- 
moirs, because they are purely human ; but the 
age has nothing that pleases her. " It is cynical 
or pedantic," she writes to Voltaire; "there is no 
grace, no facility, no imagination. Everything 
is a la glace\ hardness without force, license 
without gaiety; no talent, much presumption." 

As age came on and she felt the approach 
of blindness she found a companion in Mile, 
de Lespinasse, a young girl of remarkable 
gifts who had an obscure and unacknowledged 
connection with her family. This relation lasted 
ten years, from 1754 to 1764. During this 
period the young woman was a slave to the 
caprices of her exacting mistress, reading to 
her through long nights of wakeful restlessness, 
and assisting to entertain her guests. The one 
thing upon which Mme. du Deffand most 
prided herself was frankness. She hated fi?iesse 
in any form, and had stipulated that she would 
not tolerate artifice. Mile, de Lespinasse, with 
her amiable character and conversational 
charm, had endeared herself at once to the 
intimate circle of her patroness, and as Mme. 
du Deffand, who was in the habit of lying 
awake all night and sleeping all day, did not 
come down until six o'clock, she arranged to 
see her personal friends, among whom were 
D'Alembert, Turgot, Chastellux, and Mar- 
montel, in her own apartments for an hour 
before the marquise appeared. When this 
came to the knowledge of the latter she was 
in a violent rage at what she chose to regard 
as a treachery to herself, and dismissed her 
companion at once. The result was the open- 
ing of a rival salon which carried off many of 
her favorite guests, notably D'Alembert, to 
whom she was much attached. " If she had 
died fifteen years earlier, I should not have 


88 1 

lost D'Alembert," washer sympathetic 
remark when she heard of the death 
of Mile, de Lespinasse. 

But the most striking point in the 
career of this worldly and cynical 
woman was her friendship for Horace 
Walpole. When they first met she was 
nearly seventy, blind, ill-tempered, bit- 
ter, and hopelessly ennuyee. He was 
not yet fifty, a brilliant, versatile man of 
the world, who saw her only at long 
intervals. But their curious corre- 
spondence extends over a period 
of fifteen years, ending only with 
her death. 

In a letter to Grayson, 
after meeting her, he writes : 
Vol. XL.— 115. 

Mme. du Deffand is now very old and 
stone blind, but retains all her vivacity, 
wit, memory, judgment, passion, and 
agreeableness. She goes to operas, plays, 
suppers, Versailles ; gives supper twice 
a week; has everything new read to her; 
makes new songs and epigrams, — aye, ad- 
mirably, — and remembers every one that 
has been made these fourscore years. She 
corresponds with Voltaire, dictates charm- 
ing letters to him, contradicts him, is no 
bigot to him or anybody, and laughs both 
at the clergy and the philosophers. In a 
dispute, into which she easily falls, 
she is very warm, and yet scarce 
(? ever in the wrong; her judg- 
ment on every subject is as 
just as possible ; on every point 
of conduct as wrong as pos- 



sible ; for she is all love and hatred, passionate for 
her friends to enthusiasm, still anxious to be loved, 
— I don't mean by lovers, — and a vehement enemy 

The acquaintance thus begun quickly drifted 
into an intimacy. Friendship she calls this ab- 
sorbing sentiment, but it has all the caprices 
and inconsistencies of love. Fed by the imagi- 
nation and prevented by separation from wear- 
ing itself out, it became the most permanent 
interest of her life. There is something curiously 
pathetic in the submissive attitude of this blind, 
aged, but spirited woman — who scoffs at senti- 
ment and confesses that she could never love 
anything — towards the man who criticizes her, 
scolds her, crushes back her too ardent feeling, 
yet calls her his dear old friend, writes her a 
weekly letter, and modestly declares that she 
" loves him better than all France together." 

To this correspondence we owe the most 
profound insight into her life, and it certainly 
modifies the impression which her own words, 
as well as the facts of her career, give us. We 
find in the letters of this period little of the 
freshness, the naturalness, the spontaneity, that 
gave such a charm to the letters of Mme. de 
Sevigne and her contemporaries. Women 
still write of the incidents of their lives, the 
people they meet, their jealousies, their rival- 
ries, their loves, and their follies; but they 
think, where they formerly mirrored the world 
about them. They analyze, they compare, they 
criticize, they formulate their own emotions, 
they add opinions to facts. The gaiety, the 
sparkle, the wit, the play of feeling, is not 
there. Occasionally there is the tone of pas- 
sion, as in the letters of Mile. Aisse and 
Mile, de Lespinasse, but this is rare. Even 
passion has grown sophisticated and deals with 
phrases. There is more or less artificiality in 
the interchange of written thoughts. Mme. 
du DefTand thinks while she writes, and what 
she sees takes always the color of her own in- 
telligence. She complains of her inability to 
catch the elusive quality, the clearness, the flexi- 
bility of Mme. de Sevigne, whom she longs to 
rival because Walpole so admires her. But if 
she lacks the vivacity, the simplicity, the poetic 
grace of her model, she has qualities not less 
striking, though less lovable. Her keen insight 
is unfailing. With masterly penetration she 
grasps the essence of things. No one has por- 
trayed so concisely and so vividly the men 
and women of her time. No one has discrimina- 
ted between the shades of character with such 
nicety. No one has so clearly fathomed the 
underlying motives of action. No one has 
forecast the outcome of theories and events 
with such prophetic vision. The note of bit- 
terness and cynicism is always there. The na- 
ture of the woman reveals itself in every line; 

keen, dry, critical, with clear ideals which she 
can never hope to attain. But we feel that 
she has stripped ofT the rags of pretension and 
brought us face to face with realities. So far 
does she carry her hatred of insincerity that 
one is often tempted to believe she affects a 
freedom from affectation. " I am so fatigued 
with the vanity of others that I avoid the oc- 
casion of having any myself," she writes. Is 
there not here a trace of the quality she so 
despises ? 

But beneath all this runs the swift under- 
current of an absorbing passion. A passion of 
friendship it may be, but it forces itself through 
the arid shells of conventionalism ; it is at once 
the agony and the consolation of a despairing 
soul. Heartless, Mme. du DefTand is called, 
and her life seems to prove the truth of the ver- 
dict ; but these letters throb and palpitate with 
feeling which she laughs at but cannot still. 
It is the cry of the soul for what it has not; 
what the world cannot give ; what it has some- 
how missed out of a cold, hard, restless, and 
superficial existence. With a need of loving 
she is satisfied with no one. There is some- 
thing wanting even in the affection of her 
friends. " Ma grand 1 maman" she says to the 
gentle Duchesse de Choiseul, " you know that 
you love me, but you do noty£<?/it." 

Devouring herself in solitude, she despises 
the society she cannot do without. " Men and 
women appear to me puppets who go, come, 
talk, laugh, without thinking, without reflecting, 
without feeling," she writes. She confesses that 
she has a thousand troubles in assembling a 
choice company of people who bore her to 
death. " One sees only masks, one hears only 
lies," is her constant refrain. She does not 
want to live, but is afraid to die ; she says she 
is not made for this world, but does not know 
that there is any other. She tries devotion, but 
has no taste for it. Of the light that shines 
from within upon so many darkened and weary 
souls she has no knowledge. Her vision is 
bounded by the tangible, which offers only a 
rigid barrier against which her life flutters 
itself away. She dies as she has lived, with a 
deepened conviction of the nothingness of ex- 
istence. " Spare me three things," she said to 
her confessor in her last moments ; " let me 
have no questions, no reasons, and no ser- 
mons." Seeing Wiart, her faithful servitor, in 
tears, she remarks pathetically, as if surprised, 
" You love me then ? " " Divert yourself as 
much as you can," was her final message to 
Walpole. " You will regret me, because one 
is very glad to know that one is loved." She 
commends to his care and affection Toutou, 
her little dog. 

Strong but not gentle, brilliant but not 
tender, too penetrating for any illusions, with 



<* e 5-y%'5 

e S>^ 


a nature forever at war with itself, 
its surroundings, and its limitations, 
no one better points the moral of 
an age without faith, without ideals, 
without the inner light that reveals 
to hope what is denied to sense. 

The influence of such a woman, 
with her gifts, her energy, her 
power, and her social prestige, can 
hardly be estimated. It was not in 
the direction of the new drift of 
thought. " I am not a fanatic as 
to liberty," she said ; " I believe it 
is an error to pretend that it exists 
in a democracy. One has a thou- 
sand tyrants in place of one." She 
had no breadth of sympathy, and 
her interests were largely personal ; 
but in matters of style and form 

her taste was unerring. Pitiless in 
her criticisms, she held firmly to her 
ideals of clear, elegant, and concise: 
expression, both in literature and in 
conversation. She tolerated no plati- 
tudes, no pretension, and left behind 
her the traditions of a society that 
blended, more perfectly, perhaps,, 
than any other of her time, the best 
intellectual life with courtly manners 
and a strict observance of les co?i- 

Inseparably connected with the 
name of Mme. du DerTand is that 
of her companion and rival Mile. 
de Lespinasse, the gifted and charm- 
ing but tender and loving woman 
who presided over one of the most 

88 4 


noted of the philosophical salons ; who was delirium, of romantic dreams ; the era whose 

the chosen friend and confidante of the En- heroine was the loving and sentimental Julie, 

cyclopedists ; and who died in her prime, of a for whose portrait she might have sat, with a 

broken heart, leaving the world a legacy of shade or so less of intellect and brilliancy, 

letters that rival those of Helo'ise or the But it was more than a romantic dream that 

poems of Sappho as " immortal pictures of shadowed and shortened the life of Mile, de 

passion." The memory of her social triumphs, Lespinasse. She had a veritable heart of flame, 


remarkable as they were, pales before the 
singular romance of her life. In the midst of 
a cold, critical, and heartless society, that 
adored talent and derided sentiment, she be- 
came the victim of a passion so profound, so 
ardent, so hopeless, that her powerful intellect 
bent before it like a reed before a storm. She 
died of that unsuspected passion, and years 
afterwards these letters found the light and 
told the tale. 

The contrast between the two women so 
closely linked together is complete. Mme. du 
Deffand belonged to the age of Voltaire by 
every fiber of her hard and cynical nature. 
What she called love was a fire of the intellect 
which consumed without warming. It was a 
violent and fierce prejudice in favor of those 
who reflected something of herself. The tender- 
ness of self-sacrifice was not there. Mile, de 
Lespinasse was of the later era of Rousseau ; 
the era of exaggerated feeling, of emotional 

that consumed not only itself, but its frail 
tenement as well. 

Mile. Julie Jeanne Eleonore de Lespinasse, 
who was born at Lyons in 1732, had a birth- 
right of sorrow. Her mother, the Comtesse 
d'Albon, could not acknowledge this fugitive 
and nameless daughter, but after the death of 
her husband she received her on an inferior 
footing, had her carefully educated, and se- 
cretly gave her love and care so long as she 
lived. Left alone and without resources at fif- 
teen, Julie was taken, as governess and com- 
panion, into the family of a sister who was the 
wife of Mme. du Deffand's brother. Here the 
marquise met her on one of her visits and 
heard the story of her sorrows. Tearful, sad, 
and worn out by her humiliations, the young 
girl had decided to enter a convent. Mme. du 
Deffand was struck with her talent and a cer- 
tain indefinable fascination of manner which 
afterwards became so potent. " You have 



gaiety," she wrote to her; "you are capable 
of sentiment ; with these qualities you will be 
charming so long as you are natural and with- 
out pretension." After a negotiation of some 
months, Mile, de Lespinasse went to Paris to 
live with her new friend. The history of this 
affair has been already related. 

Parisian society was divided into two fac- 
tions on the merits of the quarrel — those 
who censured the ingratitude of the younger 
woman, and those who accused the marquise 
of cruelty and injustice. But many of the 
oldest friends of the latter aided her rival. 
The Marechale de Luxembourg furnished 
her apartments in the Rue Belle-Chasse. The 
Due de Choiseul procured her a pension, and 
Mme. Geoffrin gave her an annuity. She carried 
with her a strong following of eminent men 
from the salon of Mme. du Deffand, among 
whom was D'Alembert, who remained her 
faithful and devoted lover to the end. It is 
said that President Henault even offered to 
marry her, but how he managed to continue 
in the good graces of his lifelong friend the 
unforgiving marquise does not appear. A 
letter which he wrote to Mile, de Lespinasse 
throws a direct light upon her character, after 

erally, though it happens that all the world pleases 
you ; you know even how to avoid repelling those 
who are least agreeable to you. 

This epitome of the art of pleasing may be 
commended for its wisdom, aside from the 
very delightful picture it gives of an amiable 
and attractive woman. Again he writes : 

The excellence of your tone would not be a dis- 
tinction for one reared in a court, and speaking only 
the language she has learned. In you it is a merit 
very real and very rare. You have brought it from 
the seclusion of a province, where you met no one 
who could teach you. You were, in this regard, as 
perfect the day after your arrival at Paris as you 
are to-day. You found yourself, from the first, as 
free, as little out of place in the most brilliant 
and most critical society, as if you had passed your 
life there; you have felt its usages before know- 
ing them, which implies a justness and fineness of 
tact very unusual, an exquisite knowledge of Us con- 

It was her innate tact and social instinct, 
combined with rare gifts of intellect and great 
conversational charm, that gave this woman 
without name, beauty, or fortune so excep- 
tional a position, and her salon so distinct a 
vogue among the brilliant centers of Paris. 

making due allowance for the exaggeration of As she was not rich and could not give costly 

French gallantry. 

You are cosmopolitan ; you adapt yourself to all 
situations. The world pleases you ; you love soli- 
tude. Society amuses you, but it does not seduce 
you. Your heart does not give itself easily. Strong 
passions are necessary to you, and it is better so, 
for they will not return often. Nature, in placing 
you in an ordinary position, has given you some- 
thing to relieve it. Your soul is noble and ele- 
vated, and you will never remain in a crowd. It 
is the same with your person. It is distinguished 
and attracts attention, without being beautiful. 
There is something piquaute about you. You have 
two things which do not often go together : you 
are sweet and strong ; your gaiety adorns you and 
relaxes your nerves, which are too tense. You see 
everything at a glance ; you are extremely polished ; 
you have divined the world. 

The age of portraits was not quite passed, 
and the privilege of seeing one's self in the eyes 
of one's friends was still accorded, a fact to 
which we owe many vivid if sometimes rather 
highly colored pictures. A few words from 
D'Alembert are of twofold interest. He writes 
some years later : 

The regard one has for you does not depend alone 
upon your external charms ; it depends, above all, 
upon your intellect and your character. That which 
distinguis'hes you in society is the art of saying to 
every one the fitting word, and that art is very sim- 
ple with you ; it consists in never speaking of your- 
self to others, and much of themselves. It is an 
infallible means of pleasing ; also, you please g^n- 
Vol. XL.— 116. 

dinners, she saw her friends daily from five 
to nine, in the interval between other engage- 
ments. A hint of the rivalry between her and 
her former friend is given in a letter from 
Horace Walpole. 

" There is at Paris," he writes, " a Mile, 
de Lespinasse, a pretended bel esprit, who was 
formerly a humble companion of Mme. du 
Deffand, and betrayed her and used her very 
ill. I beg of you not to let any one carry you 
thither. I dwell upon this because she has some 
enemies so spiteful as to try to carry off all 
the English to Mile, de Lespinasse." 

But this " pretended bel esprit " had socially 
the touch of genius. Her ardent, impulsive 
nature lent to her conversation a rare eloquence 
that inspired her listeners, though she could 
be silent as well, and never drifted into mono- 
logue. Versatile and suggestive herself, she 
knew how to draw out the best thoughts of 
others. Her swift insight caught the weak 
points of her friends, and her gracious adap- 
tation had all the fascination of a subtle flat- 
tery. Sad as her experience had been, she 
had nevertheless been drawn into the world 
most congenial to her tastes. " Ah, how I dis- 
like not to love that which is excellent," she 
wrote to Guibert later. " How difficult I have 
become ! But is it my fault ? Consider the ed- 
ucation I have received with Mme. du Def- 
fand. President Henault, Abbe Bon, the 
Archbishop of Toulouse, the Archbishop of 
Aix, Turgot, D'Alembert, Abbe de Boismont 



— these are the men who have taught me to 
speak, to think, and who have deigned to count 
me for something." 

It was such men as these who thronged her 
own salon, but its tone was more philosophi- 
cal than that of Mme. du DerTand. Though 
far from democratic by taste or temperament, 
she was so from conviction. The griefs and 
humiliations of her life had left her peculiarly- 
open to the new social and political theories 
which were agitating France. She liked free 
discussion, and her own large intelligence, 
added to her talent for calling out and giving 
point to the ideas of others, went far towards 
making the cosmopolitan circle over which 
she presided one of the most potent forces of 
the time. Her influence may be traced in the 
work of the Encyclopedists, which she did 
more than any one else to aid and encourage, 
and in which she was associated. As a power 
in the making of reputations and in the elec- 
tion of members to the Academie Frangaise 
she shared with Mme. Geoffrin the honor 
of being a legitimate successor of Mme. de 

But the side of her character which strikes 
us most forcibly at this distance of time is the 
emotional. The personal charm which is al- 
ways so large a factor in social success is of 
too subtle a quality to be caught in words. 
The most vivid portrait leaves a divine some- 
thing to be supplied by the imagination, and 
the fascination of eloquence is gone with the 
flash of the eye, the modulation of the voice, 
or some fleeting grace of manner. But passion 
writes itself out in indelible characters, espe- 
cially when it is a rare and spontaneous over- 
flow from the heart of a man or woman of 
genius, whose emotions readily crystallize into 

Her friendship for D'Alembert, loyal and 
devoted as it was, seems to have been without 
illusions. It is true she had cast aside every 
other consideration to nurse him through a 
dangerous illness, and as soon as he was able 
he had been removed to an apartment in her 
own house where he lived until her death, a 
position which excited neither remark nor 
criticism. But he was not rich, and, though 
he loved her, marriage was not to be thought 
of, at least by her. She was ambitious for a 
more brilliant career. Not long after leaving 
Mme. du DerTand she met the Marquis de 
Mora, a son of the Spanish ambassador, who 
became a constant habitue of her salon. Of 
distinguished family and large fortune, bril- 
liant, courtly, popular, and only twenty-four, 
he captivated at once the fiery heart of this 
attractive woman of thirty-five. It seems to 
have been a mutual passion, as during one 
brief absence of ten days he wrote her twenty- 

two letters. But his family became alarmed 
at this continued devotion, and made his deli- 
cate health a pretext for recalling him to 
Spain. Her grief at the separation enlisted 
the sympathy of D'Alembert. At her request 
he procured from his physician a statement 
that the climate of Madrid would prove fatal 
to M. de Mora, whose health had steadily 
failed since his return home, and that if his 
friends wished to save him they must lose no 
time in sending him back to Paris. The young 
man was permitted to leave at once, but he 
died en route at Bordeaux. 

In the mean time Mile, de Lespinasse, sad 
and inconsolable, had met M. Guibert, a man of 
great versatility and many accomplishments, 
whose genius seems to have borne no ade- 
quate fruit. We hear of him later through 
the passing enthusiasm of Mme. de Stael, of 
whom he wrote a brilliant and flattering pen- 
portrait when she was twenty. Mile, de Les- 
pinasse was forty. He was twenty -nine, had 
competed for the Academie Frangaise, writ- 
ten a work on military science, also a national 
tragedy which was still unpublished. She was 
dazzled by his brilliancy, and when she fath- 
omed his shallow nature, as she did, it was too 
late to disentangle her heart. He was a man 
of gallantry and was flattered by the preference 
of a woman much in vogue, who had powerful 
friends, influence at the Academy, and the 
ability to advance his interest in many ways. 
He clearly condescended to be loved, but his 
own professions have little of the true ring. 

Distracted by this new passion on one side, 
and by remorse for her disloyalty to the old 
one on the other, the health of Mile, de Les- 
pinasse, already undermined, began to succumb 
to the hidden struggle. The death of M. de 
Mora solved one problem ; the other re- 
mained. M. Guibert wished to advance his 
fortune by a brilliant marriage without losing 
the friend who might still be of service to him. 
She sat in judgment upon her own fate, coun- 
seled him, aided him in his choice, even praised 
the woman who became his wife, hoping still, 
perhaps, for some repose in that exaltation of 
friendship which is often the last consolation 
of passionate souls. But she was on a path 
that led to no haven of peace. There was only 
a blank wall before her, and the lightning im- 
pulses of her own heart were forced back to 
wear her frail life away. The world was ig- 
norant of this fresh experience ; and, believing 
her crushed by the death of M. de Mora, sym- 
pathized with her sorrow and praised her 
fidelity. She tried to sustain a double role — 
smiles and gaiety for her friends, tears and 
agony for the long hours of solitude. The ten- 
sion was too much for her. She died shortly 
afterwards at the age of forty-three. 



It was not until many years later, when 
those most interested were gone, that the let- 
ters to Guibert, which form her chief title to 
fame, were collected, and, curiously enough, by 
his widow. Then for the first time the true 
drama of her life was unveiled. It is impossi- 
ble- in a few extracts to convey an adequate 
idea of the passion and devotion that ran 
through these letters. They touched the en- 
tire gamut of emotion, from the tender mel- 
ancholy of a lonely soul, the inexpressible 
sweetness of self- forgetful love, to the tragic 
notes of agony and despair. 

" I prefer my misery to all that the world 
calls happiness or pleasure," she writes. " I 
shall die of it, perhaps, but that is better than 
never to have lived." 

" I have no more the strength to love," she 
says again : " my soul fatigues me, torments me; 
I am no more sustained by anything. I have 
every day a fever; and my physician, who is 
not the most skillful of men, repeats to me 
without ceasing that I am consumed by cha- 
grin, that my pulse, my respiration, announce 
an active grief, and he always goes out say- 
ing, ' We have no cure for the soul.' " 

" Adieu, my friend," were her last words to 
him. " If I ever return to life I shall still love 
to employ it in loving you; but there is no 
more time." 

One could almost wish that these letters had 
never come to light. A single grand passion 
has always a strong hold upon the imagina- 
tion and the sympathies, but two passions con- 
tending for the mastery verge upon something 
quite the reverse of heroic. The note of heart- 
breaking despair is tragic enough, but there 
is a touch of comedy behind it. Though her 
words have the fire, the devotion, the abando?i 
of Heloise, they leave a certain sense of dis- 
proportion. One is inclined to wonder if they 
do not overtop the feeling. 

D'Alembert was her truest mourner, and fell 
into a profound melancholy after her death. 

" Yes," he said to Marmontel, " she was 
changed, but I was not ; she no longer lived 
for me, but I ever lived for her. Since she is 
no more, I know not why I live. Ah ! why 
have I not still to suffer those moments of bit- 
terness that she knew so well how to sweeten 
and make me forget ? Do you remember the 
happy evenings we passed together ? Now 
what have I left ? I return home, and instead 
of herself I find but her shade. This lodging 
at the Louvre is itself a tomb, which I never 
enter but with horror." 

But to this " shade " he wrote two expres- 
sive and well-considered eulogies. 

Whatever we may think of the strange in- 
consistencies of Mile, de Lespinasse, she is in- 
teresting to us as a type that contrasts strongly 

with that of her age. Her exquisite tact, her 
brilliant intellect, her conversational gifts, 
her personal charm, made her the idol of 
the world in which she lived. Her influence 
was courted, her salon was the resort of the 
most distinguished men of the century, and 
while she loved to discuss the great social 
problems which her friends were trying to 
solve she forgot none of the graces. With the 
intellectual strength and grasp of a man, she 
had the taste, the delicacy, the tenderness of 
a woman. Her faults were those of a strong 
nature. Her thoughts were clear and pene- 
trating, though faintly tinged with romance ; 
her expression was lively and impassioned. 
But in her emotional power she reached the 
proportion of genius. With " the most ardent 
soul, the liveliest fancy, the most inflammable 
imagination that has existed since Sappho," 
she represents the embodied spirit of tragedy 
outlined against the cold, hard background of 
a skeptical, mocking, realistic age. 

There was one woman who held too promi- 
nent a place in the society of this period to be 
passed without a word, though she was not 
French, and never quite caught the spirit of 
the eighteenth-century life whose attractive 
forms she loved so well. Mme. Necker, whose 
history has been made so familiar through 
the interesting memoirs of the Comte d'Haus- 
sonville, owes her fame to her marked quali- 
ties of intellect and character rather than 
to the brilliancy of her social talents. These 
formed an admirable setting in the surroundings 
which her husband's fortune and political career 
gave her. The Salon Helvetique had a distinc- 
tive color of its own, and was always tinged 
with the strong convictions and exalted ideals 
of the Swiss pastor's daughter who passed 
through this world of intellectual affluence 
and moral laxity like a white angel of purity 
— in it, but not of it. The center of a choice 
and lettered circle which included the most 
noted men and women of her time, she brought 
into it not only rare gifts, a fine taste, and 
genuine literary enthusiasm, but the fresh charm 
of a noble character and a beautiful family life, 
with the instincts of duty and right conduct 
which she inherited from her simple Protestant 
ancestry. She lacked a little, however, in the 
tact, the ease, the grace, the spontaneity, which 
were the essential charm of the French women. 
Her social talents were a trifle theoretical. 
" She studied society," says one of her critics, 
" as she would a literary question." She had 
a theory of conducting a salon, as she had of 
life in general, and believed that study would 
attain everything. But the ability to do a thing 
superlatively well is by no means always im- 
plied in the knowledge of how it ought to be 
done. Social genius is as purely a gift of na- 



ture as poetry or music ; and, of all others, it 
is the most subtle and indefinable. It was a 
long step from the primitive simplicity of her 
childhood to the complex life of a Parisian 
salon; and the provincial beauty, whose fair 
face, soft blue eyes, dignified but slightly 
coquettish manner, brilliant intellect, and 
sparkling though sometimes rather learned 
conversation had made her a local queen, was 
quick to see her own shortcomings. She con- 
fessed that she had a new language to learn, 
and she never mastered it like a native. " Mme. 
Necker has talent, but it is in a sphere too 
elevated for one to communicate with her," 
said Mme. du Deffand, though she was glad 
to go once a week to her suppers at Saint-Ouen, 
and admitted that in spite of a certain stiffness 
and coldness she was better fitted for society 
than most of the grandes dames. 

The salon of Mme. Necker marks a transi- 
tion point between two periods, and had two 
quite distinct phases. One likes best to recall 
her in the freshness of her early enthusiasm, 
when she gave Friday dinners, modeled after 
those of Mme. GeofTrin, to men of letters, and 
received a larger world in the evening ; when 
her guests were enlivened by the satire of Di- 
derot, the anecdotes of Marmontel, the bril- 
liancy or learning of Grimm, D'Alembert, 
Thomas, Suard, Buffon, the Abbe Raynal, and 
other wits of the day ; when they discussed the 
affairs of the Academy and decided the fate 
of candidates ; when they listened to the reci- 
tations of Mile. Clairon, and the works of many 
authors known and unknown. It is interesting 
to know that " Paul and Virginia " was first 
read here. But there was apt to be a shade of 
stiffness, and the conversation had sometimes 
too strong a flavor of pedantry. " No one 
knows better or feels more sensibly than you, 
my dear and very amiable friend," wrote Mme. 
GeofTrin, " the charm of friendship and its 
sweetness; no one makes others experience 
them more fully. But you will never attain 
that facility, that ease, and that liberty which 
give to society its perfect enjoyment." The 
Abbe Morellet complained of the austerity that 
always held the conversation within certain 
limits, and the gay little Abbe Galiani found 
fault with Mme. Necker's coldness and reserve, 
though he addresses her as his " Divinity " after 
his return to Naples, and his racy letters give 
us vivid and amusing pictures of these Fridays, 
which in his memory are wholly charming. 

In spite of her firm religious convictions, 
Mme. Necker cordially welcomed the most 
extreme of the philosophers. " I have atheis- 
tic friends," she said. " Why not ? They are 
unfortunate friends." But her admiration for 
their talents by no means extended to their 
opinions, and she did not permit the discus- 

sion of religious questions. It was at one of 
her own dinners that she started the subscrip- 
tion for a statue of Voltaire, for whom she en- 
tertained the warmest friendship. One may 
note here, as elsewhere, a fine mental poise, a 
justness of spirit, and a discrimination that was 
superior to natural prejudices. Sometimes her 
frank simplicity was misunderstood. " There 
is a Mme. Necker here, a pretty woman and 
a del esprit, who is infatuated with me. She 
persecutes me to have me at her house," wrote 
Diderot — who was clearly incapable of com- 
prehending the innocent appreciation of a pure- 
hearted woman — to Mile. Volland. When he 
knew her better, he expressed his regret that 
he had not known her sooner. " You would 
certainly have inspired me with a taste for 
purity and for delicacy," he says, " which would 
have passed from my soul into my works." 
He refers to her again as " a woman who pos- 
sesses all that the purity of an angelic soul 
adds to an exquisite taste." 

Among the many distinguished foreigners 
who found their way into this pleasant circle 
was her early lover, Gibbon. The old days 
were far away when she presided over the lit- 
erary coterie at Lausanne, speculated upon the 
mystery of love, talked of the possibility of 
tender and platonic friendships between men 
and women, after the fashion of the ftrecieuses, 
and wept bitter tears over the faithlessness of 
the embryo historian. The memory of her 
grief had long been lost in the fullness of her 
subsequent happiness, and she might be par- 
doned a certain natural complacency in the 
brilliancy of her position, which took little 
added luster from the fame of the man who 
had wooed and so easily forgotten her. 

This period of Mine. Necker's career shows 
her character on a very engaging side. Lov- 
ing her husband with a devotion that verged 
upon idolatry, she was rich in the friendship 
of men like Thomas, Buffon, Grimm, Diderot, 
and Voltaire, whose respectful tone was the 
highest tribute to her dignity and her delicacy. 
But the true nature of a woman is best seen in 
her relations with her own sex. There are a 
thousand fine reserves in her relations with 
men that, in a measure, veil her personality. 
They doubtless call out the most brilliant qual- 
ities of her intellect, and reveal her character, 
in some points, on its best and most lovable 
side ; but the rarer shades of generous and un- 
selfish feeling are more clearly seen in the in- 
timate friendships, free from petty vanities and 
jealous rivalries, rich in cordial appreciation 
and disinterested affection, which we often find 
among women of the finest type. It is impos- 
sible that one so serious and so earnest as Mme. 
Necker should have cherished such passionate 
friendships for her own sex if she had been 



as cold or as calculating as she has been some- 
times represented. Her intimacy with Mme. 
de Marchais, of which her descendant and 
biographer has given us so many pleasant 
details, furnishes a case in point. 

This graceful and vivacious woman, who 
talked so eloquently upon philosophical, po- 
litical, and economic questions, was the cen- 
ter of a circle noted for its liberal tendencies. 
A friend of Mme. de Pompadour, at whose 
suppers she often sang, gifted, witty, and, in 
spite of a certain seriousness aufond, retaining 
always the taste, the elegance, the charming 
manners which were her native heritage, she 
attracted to her salon not only a distinguished 
literary company, but many men and women 
from the great world of which she only touched 
the borders. Mme. Necker had sought her 
aid and advice in the formation of her own 
salon, and taken for her one of those ardent 
attachments so characteristic of earnest and 
susceptible natures. " I had for Mme. de 
Marchais a passionate affection," she says. 
" When I first saw her my whole soul was cap- 
tivated. I thought her one of those enchant- 
ing fairies who combine all the gifts of nature 
and of magic. I loved her ; or, rather, I idol- 
ized her." So pure, so confiding, so far above 
reproach herself, she refuses to see the faults 
of one she loves so tenderly. Her letters glow 
with exalted sentiment. " Adieu, my charm- 
ing, my beautiful, my sweet friend," she writes. 
" I embrace you. I press you to my bosom ; 
or, rather, to my soul, for it seems to me that 
no interval can separate yours from mine." 

But the character of Mme. de Marchais was 
evidently not equal to her fascination. Her 
vanity was wounded by the success of her 
friend. She took offense at a trifling incident 
that touched her self-love. " The great ladies 
have disgusted me with friendship," she wrote, 
in reply to Mme. Necker's efforts to repair the 
breach. They exchanged the letters so full of 
vows of eternal affection and were friends no 
more. Apparently without any fault of her 
own Mme. Necker was left with an illusion 
the less, and the world has another example to 
cite of the frail texture of feminine friendships. 

But she was not always so unfortunate in 
her choice. She found a more amiable and 
constant object for her affections in Mme. 
d'Houdetot, a charming woman who, in spite 
of her errors, held a very warm place in the 
hearts of her contemporaries. We have met 
her before in the philosophical circles of La 
Chevrette, and in the beautiful promenades of 
the valley of Montmorency, where Rousseau 
offered her the incense of a passionate and 
poetic love. She was facile and witty, graceful 
and gay, said wise and thoughtful things, wrote 
pleasant verses which were the exhalations of 

her own heart, and was the center of a lim- 
ited though distinguished circle ; but her chief 
attraction was the magic of a sunny temper and 
a loving spirit. "He only is unhappy who can 
neither love, nor work, nor die," she writes. 
Though more or less linked with the literary 
coteries of her time, Mme. d'Houdetot seems 
to have been singularly free from the small 
vanities and vulgar ambitions so often met 
there. She loved simple pleasures and the 
peaceful scenes of the country. " What more 
have we to desire when we can enjoy the 
pleasures of friendship and of nature ? " she 
writes. " We may then pass lightly over the 
small troubles of life." She counsels repose to 
her more restless friend, and her warm expres- 
sions of affection have always the ring of sin- 
cerity, which contrasts agreeably with the 
artificial tone of the time. Mme. d'Houdetot 
lived to a great age, preserving always her 
youthfulness of spirit and sweet serenity of 
temper in spite of sharp domestic sorrows. 
She took refuge from these in the lifelong 
friendship of Saint- Lambert, for whom Mme. 
Necker has usually a gracious message. It is 
a curious commentary upon the manners of 
the age that one so rigid and severe should 
have chosen for her intimate companionship 
two women whose lives were so far removed 
from her own ideal of reserved decorum. But 
she thought it best to ignore errors which her 
world did not regard as grave, if she was con- 
scious of them at all. 

One finds greater pleasure in recalling her 
ardent and romantic affection for the grand- 
daughter of the Marechale de Luxembourg, 
the lovely Amelie de Boufflers, Duchesse de 
Lauzun, whose pen-portrait she sketched so 
gracefully and so tenderly ; whose gentle sweet- 
ness and shy delicacy, in the rather oppressive 
glare of her surroundings, suggest a modest 
wild flower astray among the pretentious beau- 
ties of the hothouse ; and whose untimely 
death on the scaffold has left her fragrant 
memory entwined with a garland of cypress. 
But we cannot dwell upon the intimate phases 
of this friendship whose fine quality is shown 
in the few scattered leaves of a correspon- 
dence overflowing with the wealth of two rare 
though unequally gifted natures. 

At a later period her husband's position in 
the ministry, and the pronounced opinions of 
her brilliant daughter, gave to the salon of 
Mme. Necker a marked political and semi- 
revolutionary coloring. As Mme. de Stael 
gradually took the scepter that was falling 
from her own hand, she found it difficult to 
guide the conversation into its old channels ; but 
her inclinations always led her to literary di- 
versions, rather than to the discussion of eco- 
nomic questions. Her pale, thoughtful face, her 

8 9 o 


gentle manner, her soft and penetrating voice, 
all indicated an exquisitely feminine quality 
quite in unison with the spirit of urbanity and 
politeness that was even then going out of fash- 
ion. Her quiet and earnest though interesting 
conversation was somewhat overshadowed by 
the impetuous eloquence of Mme. de Stael, 
who gave the tone to every circle into which 
she came. " I am more and more convinced 
that I am not made for the great world," she 
said to the Duchesse de Lauzun, with an ac- 
cent of regret. " It is Germaine who should 
shine there and who should love it, for she 
possesses all the qualities which put her in a 
position to be at once feared and sought." 

If she was allied to the past, however,"by 
her tastes and her sympathies, she belonged 
to the future by her convictions, and her many- 
sided intellect touched upon every question 
of the day. Profoundly religious herself, she 
was broadly tolerant ; always delicate in health, 
she found time amid her numerous social duties 
to aid the poor and suffering, and to establish 
the hospital that still bears her name. Her 
letters and literary records reveal a woman 
of liberal thought and fine insight, as well as 
scholarly tastes. If she lacked a little in the 
facile graces of the French women, she had 
to an eminent degree the qualities of character 
that were far rarer in her age and sphere. 
Though she was cold and reserved in manner, 
beneath the light snow which she brought from 
her native hills beat a heart of warm and tender, 
even passionate, impulses. Devoted wife, loyal 
friend, careful mother, large-minded and large- 
souled woman, she stands conspicuous, in a pe- 
riod of lax domestic relations, for the virtues 
that grace the fireside as well as for the tal- 
ents that shine in the salon. 

But she was not exempt from the sorrows 
of a nature that exacts from life more than it 
can give, and finds its illusions vanish before 
the cold touch of experience. She had her 
hours of darkness and of suffering. Even the 
love that was the source of her keenest hap- 
piness was also the source of her sharpest 
griefs. In the days of her husband's power 
she missed the exclusive attention she craved. 
There were moments when she doubted the 
depth of his affection, and felt anew that her 
" eyes were wedded to eternal tears." She 
could not see without pain his extreme devo- 
tion to her own daughter, whose rich nature, 
so spontaneous, so original, so foreign to her 
own, gave rise to many anxieties and occa- 
sional antagonisms. This touches the weak 
point in her character. She was not wholly 
free from a certain egotism, and the vanity of 
her opinions, without the imagination that 
fully comprehends an individuality quite re- 
mote from one's own. She was ambitious too, 

and had not won her position without many 
secret wounds. When misfortunes came the 
blows that fell upon her husband struck with 
double force into her own heart. She was 
destined to share with him the chill of censure 
and neglect, the bitter sting of ingratitude, 
the lonely isolation of one fallen from a high 
place, whose friendship and whose favors count 
no more. 

In the solitude of Coppet, where she died 
at fifty-seven, during the last and darkest days 
of the Revolution, perhaps she realized in the 
tireless devotion of her husband and the loving 
care of her daughter the repose of heart which 
the brilliant world of Paris never gave her. 

With all her gifts, which have left many 
definite records that may be read, and in spite 
of a few shadows that fall more or less upon 
all earthly relations, not the least of her lega- 
cies to posterity was the beautiful example, 
rarer then than now, of that true and sympa- 
thetic family life in which lies the complete 
harmony of existence, a safeguard against the 
storms of passion, a perennial fount of love 
that keeps the spirit young, the tranquillity out 
of which spring the purest flowers of human 
happiness and human endeavor. 

There were many salons of lesser note which 
have left distinct and agreeable traces. It 
would be pleasant to recall other clever and 
beautiful women whose names one meets so 
often in the chronicles of the time, and whose 
faces, conspicuous for their clear, strong out- 
lines, still look out upon us from the galleries 
that perpetuate its life ; but the list is too long 
and would lead us too far. From the moving 
procession of social leaders who made the age 
so brilliant I have chosen only the few who 
were most widely known, and who best repre- 
sent its dominant types and its special phases. 

The most remarkable period of the literary 
salons was really closed with the death of 
Mme. du Deffand, in 1780. Mme. Geoffrin 
had already been dead three years, and Mile, 
de Lespinasse four. Some of the most noted 
of the philosophers and men of letters were 
also gone, others were past the age of forming 
fresh ties, the young men belonged to another 
generation, and no new drawing-rooms exactly 
replaced the old ones. Mme. Necker still re- 
ceived the world that was wont to assemble 
in the great salons, Mme. de Condorcet pre- 
sided over a rival coterie, and there were 
numerous small and intimate circles ; but the 
element of politics was beginning to intrude, 
and with it a degree of heat which disturbed 
the usual harmony. The reign of esprit, the 
perpetual play of wit, had begun to pall upon 
the blase tastes of people who found themselves 
face to face with problems so grave and issues 



so vital. There was a slight reaction towards 
nature and simplicity. " They may be growing 
wiser," said Walpole, "but the intermediate 
change is dullness." For nearly half a century 
learned men and clever women had been 
amusing themselves with Utopian theories, a 
few through conviction, the majority through 
fashion, or egotism, or the vanity of saying 
new things, just as the world is doing to-day. 
The doctrines put forth by Montesquieu, vivi- 
fied by Voltaire, and carried to the popular 
heart by Rousseau, had been freely discussed 
in the salons, not only by philosophers and 
statesmen, but by men of the world, poets, 
artists, and pretty women. The sparks of 
thought with which they played so lightly fil- 
tered slowly through the social strata. The 
talk of the drawing-room at last reached the 
street. But the torch of truth which, held aloft, 
serves as a beacon star to guide the world 
towards some longed-for ideal, becomes a 
deadly explosive when it falls among the poi- 
sonous vapoi^ of inflammable human passions. 
Liberty, equality, fraternity assumed a new 
and fatal significance in the minds of the hun- 
gry and restless masses, who, embittered by 
centuries of wrong, were ready to carry these 
phrases to their immediate and living results. 
They had found their watchwords and their 
hour. The train was already laid beneath this 
complex social structure, and the tragedy that 
followed carried to a common ruin court 
and salon, philosophers and beaux esprits, in- 
nocent women and dreaming men. 

That the salons were unconscious instru- 
ments in hastening the catastrophe, which was, 
sooner or later, inevitable, is undoubtedly true. 
Their influence in the dissemination of thought 
was immense. The part they played was, to 
a limited extent, precisely that of the modern 

press, with an added personal element. They 
directed the intelligence of the age, and re- 
flected its average morality. As centers of light 
and intelligence they were distinctly stimulat- 
ing. It is quite possible that they stimulated 
the intellect to the exclusion of the more solid 
qualities of character, and that they were the 
source of a vast amount of intellectual affecta- 
tion. It was the fashion to have esprit, and 
those who were deficient in an article so es- 
sential to success were naturally disposed to 
borrow it, or to put on the semblance of it. But 
no phase of life is without its reverse side, and 
the present generation cannot claim freedom 
from much pretension of the same sort. If they 
precipitated the downfall of the court which 
they began by rivaling, it was in the logical 
course of events, which few were wise enough 
to foresee, much less to determine. It is true 
there was much to be deplored on the score of 
morality, but the salons moved in the drift of 
their time, and accepted the traditions of a cor- 
rupt past to a certain degree, while they re- 
fined them. 

It is worthy of remark that this reign of 
women in which the manners and forms of 
modern society found their initiative and their 
models was not a reign of youth, or beauty, 
or grace, though these qualities are never likely 
to lose their own peculiar fascination. It was, 
before all things, a reign of intelligence, the 
ascendancy of women who had put on the hues 
of age without laying aside the permanent 
charm of a fully developed personality. One 
of the most salient outcomes of the two cen- 
turies in which women shone so conspicuously 
in France may be found in the broadened in- 
tellectual life, the high aspirations, the unfet- 
tered activities, and the wide and beneficent 
influence of the women of to-day. 

Amelia Gere Mason. 


HOW mockingly the morning dawns for me, 
Since thou art gone, where no pursuing speech, 
No prayer, no farthest-sounding cry can reach ! 
I call, and wait the answer to my plea — 
But only hear the stern, dividing sea 

(That pauses not, however I beseech) 
Breaking, and breaking on the distant beach 
Of that far land whereto thy soul did flee. 

Do happy suns shine on thee where thou art ? 

And kind stars light with friendly ray thy night ? 

And strange birds wake with music strange thy morn ? 
This beggared world, where thou no more hast part, 

Misapprehends the morning's young delight, 

And the old grief makes the new day forlorn. 

Louise Chandler Moulton. 


AAS, dey mought er been better 
an' dey mought er been wusser, 
but dey was good ole days, dose 
times afoah de wah ! So you 
wants ter heah 'bout how I 
bought Malviny ? Haw, haw, 
haw ! I taught all dese heah done fergit all 'bout 
it, done gone dese twenty-five yeah ! Does you 
min' dis heah ole cob-pipe, boss ? 

Well, it were ten yeah come Chrismus, 'foah 
de bre'kin' out er de wah, an' 'leven yeah arter de 
cotton cotch in de gin-'ouse ; bein' as how dat 
were two yeah arter Sue's' Ann maired Caleb, 
it were five yeah 'foah me an' Malviny's Mac 
were borned. Git out f'om 'hin' dat hopper, 
Mac, wi' yer six foot er imperence ! 

Well, you see it were ten yeah 'fore de bre'kin' 
out er de wah, an' Marse Linkum he nebber 
done me no good, 'ca'se I were already done 
er free nigger, an' I ain't nebber got no forty 
acre an' er muel, dough I 'se done got gray 
an' blin' er-lookin' fur 'em — haw, haw, haw! 
Malviny she wa' n't no slave fur ter manskate 
nuther ! How come so ? I tell you 'bout dat. 

It were 'long 'bout 'fifty er 'fifty-one, an' 
Marse Jeems he mek er mighty big crap on 
bofe plantations — mighty puttye cotton, sar, 
mighty putty; but cotton were 'way down 
low, an' Marse Jeems he 'elude ter hoi' his 'n 
twel it fotch de price he as' fur 't. Well, dar was 
lots er po' whi' trash all through de country, 
an' dey hatter sell dey cotton, leetle by leetle, 
fur side meat, coffee, an' truck, an' dey looks 
mighty scrumptious as dey pass in de road. 

Marse Jeems he feel mighty oneasy in he 
min' 'bout he big gin plum full er cotton, an' 
he call we all, an' he say, " Boys, w'en dat ar 
go ter market, I gwine gi' you all er big treat " 
— an' we watch dat gin night an' day. 

Well, one night dar was a big bre'k-down 
ovah ter Caney Creek, an' all de niggers went, 
but I hatter git Torm, wha' do de " couterin', " 
ter jeck my toof, dat been er-givin' me er mis'ry 
nigh onter er week ; an' so I stays behin'. 

Well, Torm he done bre'k my toof, plum 
up inter de jaw, an' arter I done kick 'im I 
feels so miser'ble an' po'ly, I 'elude ter stay up 
all night at de gin, but Torm, he hike off ter 
de bre'k-down wid he gal. Wha' dat gotter 
do wid me buyin' Malviny ? See heah, boss, 
I can't talk lack I uster, but I tell you de story. 

Well, I laid down by de gin-'ouse do', an' 
all was dat still you mought er-heared er pin 
drap. Bimeby er big owl he holler " A-hoo, 

A-hoo, A ! " an' I jumps up an' I sees er leetle 
spark er-shinin' lack er star through de cracks in 
de do', an' 'pears ter me I smells sumpih' er- 
scotchin', an' I tries ter holler, but, 'foah Gord, 
my mouf done dat dry I could n' spit ! Den 
I bu'st de do', an' de whi' fire go sneakin' through 
de dark, lack leetle shiny sarpints. 

I gits de buckets, an' totes de waiter f'om 
de branch, an' flings it on, but my ole tongue 
done daid; an' I rassels wid dat cotton, an' 
hugs it, an' squeezes it, er-squenchin' dem 
flames, twel I heah Mirny's ole yaller rooster 
er-crowin' fur day; an' I dismember wha' 
'curred arter. Well, w'en I open dis ole eye — 
you see I ain't got but one, fur de fire done 
bu'st de gizzard out'n tur'r one — - dar were ole 
Marse er-laffin' an' er-cryin' ober me; an' he 
tuck my ole black han' an' shuck it, an' shuck 
it, an' he holler, "Jerry, you done free ter-day 
as I is — you sabed my cotton." 

Well, I could n' leabe Marse Jeems no 
how, an' I stays dar an' wuk fur 'im lack I 
alius wuked, an' Marse Jeems he mek me de 
oberseer, an' pays me jest lack I were white. 

Wha' dat gotter do wid me buyin' Mal- 
viny ? Well, I were free now, but I ain't got 
no wife, so I slicks up an' goes 'roun' mekin' 
fox eyes at de smartes' gals. Well, bimeby I 
sneaks 'roun' an' teck er shine ter Malviny, 
wha' stay in de house an' were ole Miss's 
maid. Malviny she laugh an' bite de cornder er 
her apun ; an' so I ups an' as'es Marse Jeems 
mought we mairey, an' he say we mought ; an' 
he guv us er weddin' dat big dat dey come fur 
ober ter Caney Creek, an' we all dance twel 
day done come in good. 

But bimeby trouble come er-sneakin' roun' 
de plantation, an' I see ole Marse, solum lack, 
lean on he han's an' look 'way ober de hill at 
sumpin' wha' ain't dar; an' ole Miss she cry 
sof ' ter herse'f an' walk de flo' ; an' dar wa' n't 
no mo' bre'k- downs 'mongst de niggers. 

Bimeby er man he come f'om town, an' 
fotch er leetle bar'l an' he squinch through it, at 
dis cornder er de fence, an' dat cornder er de 
garden, an' squinch up at de house; anur'r 
one he look at de hosses an' de cows an' de 
sheep, an' res' he foot wid he shinin' boot on 
er stump, an' spit at er mark, er-laughin' lack, 
an' er-makin' uv he jokes, but ole Marse he 
were mighty solemn. 

Well, w'en dey all done gone, ole Marse he 
call we all, er-lookin' mighty sad an' mo'nful, 
an' we all come, an' he stop, an' de warter rin 



out'n de cornder uv he eye, an' he pull down 
he hat — 'pear lack ter shade 'em, but dar 
wa'n't no sun. 

Den he cle'r he thote, an' say, " You has 
all, er leastways mos' all uv you, has been 
true, hones' sarvents ; you has all, er mos' all 
uv you, been borned an' r'ared on dis place, 
as I is : an' we lubed it, 'ca'se 
it were our home; but now 
we has all got ter leabe it, an' 
I hatter sell my niggers, 'ca'se 
I done los' all my farder lef ' 

Ole Marse's voice trimble 
lack, an' he look white roun' 
de mouf, den he tu'n an' walk 
slow, on inter de house. Well, 
Malviny she stay an' cry wid 
ole Miss dat night, an' I lay 
in de bade, in de cabin, an' 
thunk an' thunk ; den I sw'ar 
low dat I stan' by ole Marse 
fru it all, " come Dick, come 
debbil ! " 

Bimeby day bre'k, an' I 
gits up an' looks out de do', 
but Malviny ain't come yit ; 
den I walks sof an' looks all 
roun', 'ca'se I did n' want no- 
body ter see me, leastways 
er 'oman ; but dar wa'n't no- 
body dar ; den I walks slow, 
kinder talkin' ter myse'f, an' 
retch up by de chimbly 
cornder, an' teks down de 
ole sock, tied wid er blue 
cotton string, wha' hel' all 
my money. 

Well, I looks up by stable, 
an' dar ole Marse, an' ole 
Carlo follerin', wid he tail 
stuck 'twix' he laigs : ole 
Carlo he know sumpin' done 
gone wrong; but ole Marse 
he tek no notice, an' walk an' 
walk lack he could n' stop. 
Den I comes up, brisk lack, 'pears lack ter ten' 
Marse Jeems's hoss, but w'en I come up 'long- 
side I stops wid my derned ole heart stuck plum 
tight in my thote, an' I says to ole Marse, says I, 
" Marse Jeems, kin you count dis fur me ? " An' 
ole Marse he look up kinder 'sprised lack an' 
retch out he han' fur de sock, an' ontie de blue 
cotton string. Den he say, kinder strained lack : 

"Jerry, you got two hundud an' fifty dollars." 

An' I say, " Marse Jeems, who I b'long ter 
'fore I free ? " 

An' he say, " You b'long ter me, Jerry." 

Den I say, " Marse Jeems, who sot me 
free ? " 

An' he say sof, " I did, Jerry." 
Vol. XL.— 117. 

Den I say, wid er great big trimble in my 
thote, " Marse Jeems, all I is, an' all I got, is 
your'n — tek de money an' sabe de ole home." 

An' he sorter smile sad an' tek my ole nig- 
ger han' in his'n, an' hoi' it an' say, " Jerry, 
I 's 'bleeged to you, Jerry : you is er true fren v 
an' er hones' man ; but keep yer money, Jerry ; 


it can't do me no good now. I 's too fur gone 

fur dat; I 's done furever, Jerry." An' ole 

Marse he laid he haid on he han's, an' I stan' 

dar, an' we cry terger'r. Well, bimeby ole 

Marse he raise he haid, an' say suddent lack, 

" Jerry, would n' you lack ter buy Malviny ? " 

'Pear lack shootin'-stars dance 'fore my 

eyes, an' I say, " Gord ! Marse Jeems, how ? " 

An' he say, "Wid yer money, Jerry." 

Den I cut de pigeon wing an' pat ; den 

stops lack I done bit er green crab. 

An' Marse Jeems he say, " Wha' de matter? " 
An' I says, says I, " Marse Jeems, you cain't 
buy er good nigger fur er two hundud an' 
fifty dollar." 



Marse Jeems he smile an' say, " Not 'lessen 
we fix it, Jerry." 

An' I say, kinder cute, " Marse Jeems, you 
mought tell 'em dat she 's rale oler dan she 
look, dat she were worfless an' triflin', an' were 
slow 'bout work, wid stiffness in her laigs, an' 
de mis'ry in her chist ; an' ef dey crowd her close, 
you mought tell 'em, sof ' , dat she hid de spoons, 
an' you was shore glad ter git shet uv her ! " 

Afore Gord, I lacked ter cried er-busin' er 
my ole 'oman, but I wanter buy Malviny 
free. But ole Marse he say, " Nebber min', 
Jerry, we '11 try ter manage it "; an' shuck my 
han' ag'in, an' tu'ned he back. 

Well, arter dat things went on mighty 
po'ly. Ole Marse he nebber say much, an' 


ole Miss she mighty low in her sperrits; an' 
Malviny she stay wid ole Miss pretty nigh 
constanterly twel I ain't got but one gallus but- 
ton lef '. Den, all uv er suddent, dar were er hur- 
ry'n' an' skerry'n' uv de house niggers, an' ole 
Marse he come down ter de stable, whar I were 
er-curry'n' Pluto, an' say, kinder low, "Jerry, de 
sale comes off ter-morrer " ; an' dat 's all, fur it 
'peared lack he swallowed sumpin' hard. 
Dat night de niggers, fie? han's an' all, come 

up ter de big house, an' ole Marse he say he 
gib 'em all er " stirrin' cup," er sumpin' er dat 
sort ; but I nebber in all my borned days see 
niggers cry so hard ober good whisky. 

Well, de bre'kfus' were sarved by candle- 
light nex' mornin', an' all de ole fambly silber 
were set out 'posin', lack 't were w'en we 
all had comp'ny, an' dar were two or three 
pa'r strange laigs under ole Marse's table, but 
dey wa'n't comp'ny. Ole Miss she set proud 
lack, an' pour de coffee, but her lip trimble ; 
an' leetle Azariah he fotch in de waffles, but he 
sperrit done gone, an' he come in lack er yaller 
cur wha' jist los' er tin can f'om he tail. 

Dem were mighty troublous times, sar, 
mighty troublous. Well, dey rung de big 
bell w'en de sun 'bout er hour high, an' de 
niggers dey come f'om de quarters, an' 
f'om de house, fiel' han's, house sarvents, 
an' all; an' dey all mighty skeered an' 
still lack, 'cep'in' Parson 'Bias, he keep up 
er power er prayin' ; fur none of de TarP- 
ton niggers ebberbinselledafoah — nebber 
sence de place were er plantation ; an' it 
'peared lack de Jedgment done come, an' 
dar wa'n't no libben arterwards. 

Well, Malviny she come ter me, an' flung 
her apun ober her haid, er-shakin' lack her 
had deagur, an' I tuck her han' an' we went 
nigh de block whar dey gwine auctioneer 
'em, bes' I could, fur de trimblin' in my laigs ; 
it were rumatiz er-comin' on me hard. 

Ole Marse he were dar, er 'rangin' an' 
er-persuadin' 'emtersell 'em in lots, er fam- 
blies, so 's dar would n' be sich supperatin' 
an' good-byin' 'mongst we all. Ole Parson 
'Bias, wid he white haid bar', he set in de 
cornder uv de wum fence er-'dolin' an' er- 
'zortin' 'bout de Jedgment, an' de two er- 
pickin' in de fiel' an' de one tucken an' 
tur'r lef. 
Ole 'Bias he were safe an' he knowed it, fur 
he so ole an' po'ly dey ain't nobody wanter 
buy 'im. Well, de fus ter mount de block 
were ole Aunt Sally ; an' Sherruff Scrump he 
step up 'longside her, wid de papers ter her, an' 
he say dat dis heah 'oman Sally are nigh onter 
fifty yeah ole, an' dese are Misser Tarl'ton's 
papers f'om Misser Smif, wha' say, dat " she 
are soun' in body an' min', an' er slave fur life, 
an' I, Sherruff Scrump, sells her ter de highes' 
bidder." She were er mighty handy 'oman, 
an' dey runs her high. 

Misser Payson he start her at two hundud, 
an' finally dey knock her off ter Misser Stone, 
on de nex' plantation, fur seben hundud. I 
feel mighty po'ly jist den, an' squz Malviny's 
han' twel it hu't her — but I 's trus' Marse 
Jeems afoah dis. 

Well, dey sole off de niggers in lots an' fam- 
blies, mos'ly, by twos an' threes an' fives an' 



tens; an' dar would be er 
kinder laugh w'en dey wen' 
terger'r, an' er groan, lack, 
w'en dey were parted. 

Bimeby dar wa'n't no- 
body stan'in' dar but me 
an' Malviny. Malviny she 
git cole, an' 'pear lack she 
fall, fur she know her tu'n 
done come ; but I hoi' her 
up, an' lead her ter de block, 
an' she mount it. Sherruff 
Scrump he step up wid her, 
but Malviny she hoi' her 
han's terger'r tight, an' look 
'way ober yander, lack she 
done hear one er ole Miss's 
daid babies call her. She 
dunno nuffin' 'bout de sock, 
tied wid de blue cotton 
string, fur I ain't er power- 
ful han' ter talk business 
ter er nigger, leastways ter 
er 'oman ; but I cotch 
Marse Jeems's eye, an' my 
ole heart beat plum up in 
my thote, lack er trip-ham- 
mer. Den dey starts de bids 
at fifty dollar, an' Misser 
Stone he raise it ter er hun- 
dud. I Stan's dar, an' waits 
fur 't ter retch my pile, lack 
I were growed in de groun', 
lack er 'tater. Misser Ger- 
ard he bid er hundud an' 
fifty. Misser Payson he 
want Malviny, an' he say, 
" Two hundud," an' I mean 
ter holler " Two hundud an' fifty," but de 
sunshine all gits black, an' I on'y whispers. 
Den Marse Jeems he call it strong an' cle'r, 
" Two hundud an' fifty doller ! " 'Pears lack 
deleaves on de trees were feared ter move, 
an' I prays hard 'long er ole 'Bias. Misser 
Payson he look at Marse Jeems 'stonished 
lack, den he gits red in de face, an' holler 
" Eight hundud — damme ! " an' I hears Sher- 
ruff Scrump lack 't were way off yander, er- 
singin', " Goin', goin', at eighthundud — goin ! " 

— but I don' wanter hear no mo', fur de groun' 
done sink, an' de sperrit call fur de rocks an' 
de mountings ter fall, lack de Scriptur say. 

Gord ! My Malviny gone — done selled ! 
An', wusser 'n dat, buyed by ole Payson, dat 
Marse Jeems hates wusser 'n er sarpint — an' 
he would n' sell her back ter me ef ebry ha'r 
were strung wid er dimunt ! My Malviny, wid 
her putty long yaller han's, an' big wide eyes 

— done gone! O Gord! — an' ole 'Bias he 
stop prayin' ter cotch me, 'ca'se I 's gwine 
er-whirlin'. Den I sees de sunlight ag'in, an' 


I sees Marse Jeems er-talkin' mighty yearnes' 
an' mek er sign ter Sherruff Scrump, an' Sher- 
ruff Scrump he wiggle — an' wait. 

Den ole Payson he step forruds, er man 
fur onct, an' say, " Gemmen, dar were er 
mistake made, an' I wi'draw my bid." An' 
Sherruff Scrump he say, " Well, we '11 start it 
ober"; an' dey bid. An' w'en sum-un call 
" Two hundud " I groans out, " Two hundud 
an' fifty — O Gord ! " lack er pra'r ; an' it were 
er pra'r, fur Sherruff Scrump he call, " Goin' ! 
goin' ! gone ! Ter Jerry Tarl'ton, fur two hun- 
dud an' fifty dollar ! " Den how de niggers shout! 
I dunno how it were, sar, but howsum- 
ebber I had Malviny off 'n dat block afoah 1 
knowedit, an' we hug an' holler, an' holler an' 
hug, twel Malviny done faint plum daid away. 

Yaas, Marse Jeems an' de ole Miss sleeps in de 
ole fambly bury'n'-groun' 'longside de babies. 
We laid 'em bofe dar soon arter de wah, but 
dar 's two places lef , by de cornder uv de fence, 
fur Jerry an' Malviny. 

Virginia Frazer Boyle. 


^'ij iiY_^ ^ ^^-is ^: .^z^itI 

of a range of pre- 
ahead and threw 


E had been traveling for three days over an almost waterless 
waste, and were longing for a change of scene and experience. 
The desert landscapes had been pleasant enough at first in their 
velty, but now their low sand-hills, capped with flat black rocks 
and thinly clad with sage, cactus, and grayish-yellow weeds, had 
come to be sorely monotonous. Towards evening we came in sight 
cipitous cliffs, which seemed to bar the way half a dozen miles 
back the rays of the setting sun as from whitewashed walls. A 
single break appeared, which as we drew nearer developed into a wide, level-bottomed 
canon, into which the Indian guide, beckoning me to follow, plunged at a gallop. Shortly he 
pulled up, and, pointing to an object a mile farther on, uttered the single word " Kintail " — 
the Navajo equivalent for ancient ruin. 

Our canon soon opened at right angles into a wider one, disclosing beautiful vistas to 
the right and left, comparable to nothing upon which our eyes had been accustomed to look. 
We saw a valley a dozen miles long by half a mile in width, hemmed in by gray sandstone 
walls, precipitous for a hundred feet from the bottom, then retreating in long, even terraces, 
whose flat crests were fringed or specked in black by the pinons. The floor was carpeted 
in yellow — a waving lake of sunflowers; not the seedy monsters of the East and the 
South, but smaller, more brilliant, and far more beautiful growths. A herd of Indian ponies, 
startled by our advent, bounded away down the canon — the only living things in sight besides 

We halted upon the brink of an arroyo which wound through the middle of the main 
canon at a point just opposite the ruin to which the guide had called my attention. The pile 
resembled a huge brick-kiln, its fires out and its row of blackened fire-holes at the bottom 
left open. 

I slipped from my saddle, and, abandoning my pony to the care of the Indian, dropped down 
the bank of the arroyo. Pausing a moment on the side of the little brooklet at the bottom 
to take an unrefreshing drink of its muddy, tepid water, I climbed the other bank and con- 
fronted, close at hand, a most remarkable structure of immense extent and undoubted antiq- 
uity. Having crossed the debris of a fallen wall, I passed through a wide plaza and entered 
a weed-grown court, on three sides of which stood black walls of masonry of great thickness. 
Through their queer, low doorways, hardly more than a yard from top to bottom, and little 
windows, was revealed room beyond room, and stories one, two, three above me. An hour 
later the gathering darkness, and the noises of the approaching pack-train, recalled me from 
the past, and having stumbled back across the arroyo, I joined in the work of establishing 
camp at the point where the Indian had remained. 

Few more interesting archaeological curiosities exist upon the hemisphere, and none within 
the borders of the republic, than those of Chaco Canon, New Mexico. To what remote 
periods " in the morning of time " they owe their origin and their destruction none will 



ever know. What may have been the purposes 
of many of their marked peculiarities; what the 
numbers and characteristics of their builders ; 
what the relationship, if any, between their in- 
habitants and the other families of the great 
race of early community dwellers, are queries 
which may be answered in part when the in- 
vestigator shall go with pick and shovel to 
uncover the buried rooms, and lay bare that 
which has remained concealed since the death 
or departure of the ancients. The existence of 
these ruins has long been known, but they have 
rarely been visited by white men. There are 
thirteen groups — castles in appearance, but 
towns and villages in fact, twelve of which are 
situated within ten miles of the mouth of the 

Many visits were made to some of the piles, 
and on each occasion some feature which had 
at first refused to yield up its secret proved 
more tractable upon being brought into com- 
parison with kindred features of neighboring 
ruins. The masonry of the Chacoans is admira- 

of thick with several layers of thin stones gave 
a surprisingly attractive appearance to their 
best work. Looking beyond the minutiae of 
construction, however, the work of the ancients 
is found to be less praiseworthy; and evidences 
appear on every hand that they had not 
emerged from the estate of barbarism to a full 
comprehension of the mysteries of true curves, 
straight lines, and right angles. They began 
their structures with definite and symmetrical 
plans in mind, but in matters of alignment and 
direction they often fell far short of their evi- 
dent purpose. 

The largest and most central mass in the 
canon is Pueblo Bonito. Its walls inclose an 
area of about three and one-third acres. Its 
master architect planned a half-moon structure 
in outline, evidently intending to divide up a 
portion of the interior by a series of concentric 
semicircles and radiating cross walls to form 
the living apartments. It had more than two 
hundred rooms upon a single level, and being 
four, perhaps five, stories in height, contained 


ble, considering their limited resources. They 
faced their walls with small, roughly squared 
stones smoothly laid in clay, and filled the 
spaces between with rubble, embedding large 
logs both vertically and horizontally in the 
masses to give them additional strength. Often 
the building material was carefully assorted 
so that each layer of stones might be of uni- 
form thickness throughout, and the alternation 

not less than eight hundred rooms in all. Its 
population probably averaged two individuals 
to a room. Those who are familiar with the 
habits of the village Indians of the present day, 
recalling the fact that three or four generations, 
sometimes to the number of a dozen individ- 
uals, are found living in a single apartment, 
will think my estimate too low ; but the rooms 
of Bonito are smaller than those of the in- 

8 9 8 


habited pueblos, and I deem it unsafe to esti- 
mate their population upon the same basis. 

The architect of Bonito was a bungler. One 
of his two outer angles is acute, the other ob- 
tuse. At one point his intended semicircle is 
flattened by reason of the proximity of the 
cliff, and at another it is afflicted with a dropsi- 
cal bulge. The diameter of his half-moon — 
the front of the structure — is at variance by 
thirty degrees with the line of the arroyo in its 
front and that of the cliffs behind. The dia- 
metral line is broken in its middle by reason of 
a miscalculation of one or two degrees, and the 
break was utilized as a main entrance. The 
inner concentric curves, springing at right 
angles from the diametral wall, attempted to 
follow the line of the outer semicircle, but got 
bewildered in the maze of cross walls and shot 
off at odd angles to premature absorption in 
their neighboring walls. 

Bonito, though the largest and doubtless in 
its day the most important of the Chaco ruins, 
is not the best preserved, nor in its construc- 
tion the best fitted to illustrate the highest 
capabilities of this people. These qualities, 
in my opinion, attach to Pueblo del Arroyo, 
two hundred and fifty paces west. It is rectan- 
gular in plan, being built around three sides 
of a parallelogram, and doubtless owes its 
better alignment to its comparative simplicity. 


Little lapses from rectitude are noticeable 
here and there, but, as a whole, its angles 
present fewer eccentricities, and its interior 
walls more uniformly reach their destinations, 
than do those of its huge neighbor. Its rooms 
are generally larger, and its appearance indi- 
cates a somewhat later date of construction. 

It contained eighty-four lower rooms or cells, 
and probably had twice as many more in its 
upper stories. 

The most remarkable outline is that of 
Penasca Blanca, the second pueblo in point 
of size, and the westernmost ruin of the group. 
It stands upon the tongue of a mesa seventy feet 
above the bottom of the canon, and in a military 
sense commands its mouth. The plan of the 
main portion of this ruin exhibits six concentric 
curves, four of which describe one hundred 
degrees of the circle, while the two innermost 
are extended to complete circles, — or rather 
ellipses, — thus inclosing the plaza. Its walls 
inclose an area of about one hundred and ten 
thousand square feet. It probably had three 
hundred apartments, and it may have been 
the home of a thousand individuals. 

The principal mesa had an area of about fif- 
teen square miles. From its highest point the 
land slopes gently away in all directions, the 
incline towards the south ending abruptly at 
the distance of one mile in the descent into the 
canon. At this commanding point there stand 
in a group three masses of masonry, notable 
in themselves yet with few distinctive features. 
Their site is, with one exception, the highest 
within fifty miles, and commands a northward 
view of desert table-land, canon, cliff, and moun- 
tain which must have gladdened the hearts of 
the ancients, as it did ours, 
to look upon. The largest 
ruin of this group is now 
little more than a rubbish 
heap, yet a few yards of 
standing wall here and 
there prove it to have been 
built with the same careful 
attention to detail exhibited 
in those already described. 
It had ninety lower apart- 
ments. One of the remain- 
ing structures is in a still 
more advanced stage of 
decay, while the third is, 
oddly enough, the best pre- 
served ruin in all the Chaco 
region. It had only forty 
rooms in its lower level. 
From the distance of a few 
rods its appearance was 
that of a large modern 
brick mansion lately de- 
stroyed by fire. 
Many rooms in the various ruins remain in- 
tact, though choked with rubbish, and by ex- 
amination of them something may be learned 
of the simple internal economy of the ancient 
homes. Their entrances and intercommuni- 
cating apertures were commonly not more 
than three feet from top to bottom. Some 




were placed low down, necessitating the use of 
hands and knees to effect an entrance, while 
others required a leap over a threshold two or 
three feet high. In the latter cross-bars were 
placed at the top, which the passer might grasp 
to assist himself over the obstruction. Little 
windows or ventilators, ten and twelve inches 
square, opened near the tops of the rooms. In- 
teriors were plastered over with mud laid on 
as smoothly as could be done by modern work- 
men with their trowels. Recesses great and 
small extending into the thick walls served the 
purposes of cupboards and store places. Floors 
were made of small, straight withes — more 
rarely of split slabs — laid contiguously across 
heavy log sleepers and covered with a thick 
carpeting of soft bark. In one place we found 
the spaces between the sleepers — fourteen 
inches wide — filled with thin stones, so firmly 
wedged into their places that they remained, 
being plastered over with mud, as the ceiling 
of the room below, and without other support 
than their own weight and pressure. So near 
did the Chacoans come to the discovery of 
the arch, using herein its essential principles ; 
yet for the lintels to doorways, passages, and 
windows — places where the arch would best 
have served their purposes — they used short 
poles, which in the majority of cases have been 
broken down by the superincumbent masses 
of masonry. 

Neither fireplaces nor flues are to be found, 
and it is probable that fires were never built 
in the living apartments. Their smoke Avould 

have smothered the dwellers above, except 
where the ceilings were like the one I have 
described, of small stones plastered with clay ; 
and in such cases life below would have been 
made intolerable. Cooking was probably done 
in the open plaza, or in specially constructed 
apartments, as is to some extent the case among 
the Moquis to-day. For warmth the ancients 
doubtless wrapped their rabbit-skin robes about 
them and snuggled together within their little 
cells, shutting out the blasts of winter by wall- 
ing up superfluous doors and windows. Aper- 
tures so walled are found in all the ruins. 

The mountainous weight of these great piles 
had no more solid foundation than the surface 
of the alluvium. Although the thickness of the 
walls at their bases — usually more than three 
feet — was sufficient to give them a measure 
of stability, yet the architect in nearly every 
instance made the outer row of rooms much 
narrower and shorter than the others, so that 
the two outermost walls might with their strong 
connecting walls the better support each other. 
In every ruin it is the outermost wall which 
has suffered greatest from the ravages of time, 
while its neighbor, braced upon both sides 
by the cross walls, is usually the best preserved. 
The double wall was evidently regarded by 
the ancients as a single and essential feature 
of their architecture, and they extended it even 
to lines which were designed merely to com- 
plete the inclosure of their plazas. In these 
cases the two walls were connected and braced 
by masonry at short intervals, and the cells 



thus formed were utilized as living and store 

The Chacoans, like all the community 
dwellers of the region, ancient and modern, 
were great potters, and immense mounds 
of broken ware, tastefully ornamented in 
colors according to barbaric standards, are 
found in the neighborhood of all the larger 


ruins — the ac- 
cumulation and 
breakage of 

The most 
curious and 
mysterious fea- 
tures of the 
ruins are 
tanks of 
in diam- 
eter from 
fifteen to 

more than sixty feet. Bonito had a dozen of 
them, and the very smallest ruin had one. They 
were built with an especial view to resisting 
pressure from within, the spaces about them 
being filled with broken stone and clay, and their 
walls being sometimes supported extensively by 
radiating braces of masonry. They had no en- 
trances or apertures of any kind other than their 
open tops. What purpose did they serve ? 

The water question early became one of 
anxious consideration with our party, notwith- 
standing the fact that the little Rio Chaco ran 
within fifty feet of our tents. The stream was 
an evasive brooklet whose comings and goings 
were an interesting mystery. We had no rain 
until the day before our departure, yet I often 
noticed that the volume of water increased four 
or five fold between sunrise and nine or ten 
o'clock, while it would disappear entirely before 
night. The stream, though free from alkali, held 

its freight of clay with the grip of a chemical so- 
lution, and was unfit for drinking or for culinary 
purposes, even if left standing over night in 
the mess kettle. Ellison, the muleteer, solved 
the question temporarily by putting into prac- 
tice a device learned from the Mexicans. Hav- 
ing gathered a shovelful of prickly pears, he 
burned off their spines, crushed them, and put 
them into a kettle of water. After half an hour 
of vigorous stirring the clay took a curdled 
appearance and sank to the bottom. A day 
or two later we luckily found a rock pocket in 
the cliffs, containing several barrelfuls of clear 
rain water, and we quenched our thirst for the 
first time in many days without a suspicion 
of mud, prickly pears, or wrigglers. 

I dwell upon the water question for a pur- 
pose. It must have been one of absorbing 
interest to the ancients ; for although the cli- 
matic conditions of the 
region were then more 
favorable to the support 
of human life, yet there 
doubtless were seasons 
when the Chaco, for 
months perhaps at a time, 
ceased to flow. 

I have said that in all 
the ruins there are tanks. 
The smallest ruin in the 
canon stands not more 
than thirty feet from the 

face of the cliff, and consists of a single circular 
tank, surrounded by a parallelogram of double 
walls. Here the tank is the chief feature of the 
structure, and the outer walls, with the cells 
formed by their connecting braces of masonry, 
are incidents in the plan for securing strength. 
The cells in this case have no entrances or venti- 
lating apertures, and moreover are solidly filled 
in with rubble and dirt. The tank is twenty- 
eight and a half feet in diameter. The cliff 
overhead is gullied just above this structure 



by rain water, which here makes its way over 
the crest into the canon. Nothing could have 
been easier than to place troughs beneath and 
convey a portion of the treasure into the tank. 
Manifestly this structure was a reservoir. One 
mile distant is found another ruin bearing 
similar relations to the cliff, and consisting 
of three circular tanks inclosed within a par- 
allelogram one hundred and thirty by seventy- 
three feet. The cells in this structure were 
utilized as living-rooms, though they were 
evidently mere incidents in the plan for secur- 
ing strength to the tanks. The bottoms of the 
tanks in both these structures are consider- 
ably higher than the floor of the canon, and 
their contents might easily be drawn off by 
siphons to the plain below, but the sug- 
gestion credits the ancients with a greater 
knowledge of hydraulics than they probably 

In applying the water- 
tank theory to the larger 
ruins one meets with diffi- 
culties, but they do not seem 
insurmountable. Bonito 
and at least three other of 
the larger pueblos are near 
enough to the cliff to war- 
rant the supposition that 
water was conveyed from 
the crest to their tanks in 
troughs. With regard to 
Pueblo del Arroyo, which is 
several hundred feet from 
the cliff, and to those ruins 
which stand upon the mesa 
tops, the problem is still 
more difficult. Perhaps the 
water which fell upon their 
broad roofs was conveyed to 
their tanks. Possibly so pa- 
tient a people as this carried 
water from the lower level, 
as the Moquis do to-day up 
a steep seven times greater ; 
but unlike the Moquis, they 
carried supplies in time of 
plenty to fill their tanks 
against the time of drought. 
Possibly again they filled 
their tanks when only the 
water of the stream was to 
be obtained, and that was 
too muddy for use; long 
standing in the tanks would 
doubtless clarify it suffi- 
ciently for cooking purposes 
and for drinking, which, if 
one may judge by the habits 
of living pueblo Indians, 
were the only uses made of 
Vol. XL.— 118. 

water. Series of earthworks are found in the 
neighborhood of the more elevated ruins which 
at first glance suggest defensive purposes, but 
which were probably made to catch and hold 
the rain water falling upon the summits until 
it could be carried in jars to the tanks within 
the pueblos. 

" You would find," said one for whose opin- 
ion I entertain the highest respect, " that ma- 
sonry laid in mud would not long hold water." 
This suggestion would have been fatal to my 
theory, and I should have abandoned it, had 
I not found in another locality a tank upon 
the inner surface of which there remained por- 
tions of a lining similar in substance to the 
pottery of the ancients. It had evidently been 
laid on with trowels and baked, and to a cer- 
tain degree glazed, by building fires within 
the tank. 


1,1 ■ r.-wmW'^ 












The temptation to pursue the speculation 
further is irresistible. The people, having set- 
tled down in villages, improvidently began that 
system of denuding their region of its forests 
to which is due the fact that for many thou- 
sands of square miles this once populous region 
has been rendered a sterile desert. When the 
climatic change began prayers and incanta- 
tions for rain such as are performed by all the 
Western tribes, and especially by the Pueblos 
of the present time, were resorted to, and what 
place so quick to suggest itself for the purpose 
as the empty tank where it was desired the 
blessing should fall ? As the change progressed 
the pagan rites became more frequent, and be- 
fore the hegira of the degenerate remnant the 
tank had become a recognized place of wor- 
ship and a necessary adjunct of the religious 

The Spanish invaders under Coronado found 
the Zuhis, the Moquis, and their kind worship- 
ping and holding council in places of some- 
what similar construction to these tanks, and 
which could be entered only from the top. With- 
in fires were kept perpetually burning, from 
which fact they were named " estufas " (stoves), 
a name that they retain to the present time. 
It was erroneously assumed that their peculiar 
form was adopted the better to preserve the 
fires for economic and religious purposes. 

The Zunis know nothing of Chaco. When 
asked where they came from they point to 
the northeast, which includes the entire San 

Juan region, of which Chaco is a part; but 
beyond the most nebulous of myths and tradi- 
tions relating to their migration and its causes 
they have nothing to tell. The late Mr. James 
Stevenson of the National Bureau of Ethnology, 
and his accomplished wife, who made them- 
selves familiar with the Zuni language and the 
traditions of the fathers of the tribe, thought the 
period covered by their more or less authentic 
traditions to be not less than a thousand years, 
during which time the Zuhis had always lived 
in their present neighborhood. These people 
translate and imitate the symbolical ornamen- 
tation upon the Chaco pottery, though their 
work is in some respects inferior to the old. 

Here, then, we find a tribe, perhaps descended 
from the Chacoans, whose religion, so far as 
can be judged by its symbolism, is identical; 
whose tenacious memories preserve the story 
of their race for probably a thousand years; 
yet who have not even a name for the great- 
est metropolis ever known by their ancestors. 

We found no human remains in Chaco ex- 
cept some fragments of skulls in Penasca 
Blanca. They lay among the rubbish of a fall- 
en outer wall as if they had rolled from within. 
They may have been the relics of some who 
perished in the last tragedy, the sacking and 
destruction of the place, and probably had no 
other burial than that afforded by the fallen 
walls of their home. 

Our life of eight days in the canon, though 
devoted to the study of the ruins, never be- 



came monotonous. To speculate, as we sat 
around the mess-cloth or the camp-fire, upon 
the manner of men who built so well yet so 
stupidly; who advanced so far in masonry 
yet so lagged in architecture and engineering ; 
who made fine pottery, as millions of frag- 
ments attested, yet in carpentry used only 
implements of stone; who built strong for- 
tresses at commanding points, yet for still 
more elaborate structures chose sites over 
which an enemy might sit and stone them to 
death at leisure — to speculate was our diver- 
sion. When engaged with tape-line and com- 
pass there were toppling walls to be avoided 
and cavernous openings to be crossed. The 
latter offered access to many hidden ruins, at 
risk of living burial or of death from the bite 
of poisonous creatures. Of these there were 
tarantulas, centipedes, and rattlesnakes. But 
poisonous creatures were not the only inhabi- 
tants of the ruins. Thousands of pretty swifts 
darted like sunbeams over the old stones; 
horned toads, ugly but harmless, were more 

had discovered the day before " up two, tree 
pair stair." We galloped a dozen miles east- 
ward and reached the head of the canon, 
whence, having mounted a sand-bar which 
stretched across the way, we saw, two or three 
miles farther on, the " kintail " of our search. 
I suffered the Indian to go on alone, while I 
waited to enjoy the rare beauty of the scene 
and to conjure back the beings who had had the 
good taste to select such a charming site and 
the sense and skill to build so enduringly. The 
pile was lordly even in its ruin, bearing a strong 
resemblance to some of the ancient feudal 
castles of Europe. Standing upon the crest 
of a long, gentle swell, it overlooked a dozen 
square miles of rolling country, which seemed 
even now to be white and yellow to the har- 
vest. Behind the structure there stretched for 
miles what appeared in the distance to be an 
orchard of wide-spreading trees ; and in front 
there wound the course of a pretty brook. 

From Chaco Canon, New Mexico, the site 
of the grandest of the ruined pueblo struc- 


rarely seen ; rabbits scurried from shelter to 
shelter ; ravens, blacker, glossier, and far larger 
than I ever saw elsewhere, hopped and croaked 
and flopped away before the intruder; and 
coyotes, aroused from their midday naps, 
skulked to other hiding-places in the cliffs. 
One morning I started, under the guidance 
of Manuelito, to visit a ruin which he said he 

tures, to Canon de Chelly, Arizona, the ancient 
home of the most flourishing community of 
cave-dwellers, was a week's journey, not in- 
cluding a short stay at the Navajo agency for 
repairs and supplies. The southernmost en- 
trance to Canon de Chelly lies forty-five miles 
north of Fort Defiance, the agency of the 
Navajos. The way for the most part runs 



through a magnificent pine park — a feature of 
the highest and most exposed of Western forest 
plateaus. It is a fine country to look upon, its 
trees being the tallest and most shapely of their 
species, while the sward beneath is entirely 
free from the undergrowths which are common 
to Eastern woodlands ; but it lacks water. 

The neighborhood of the canon is first made 
known by an ominous crack in the general 
level a few hundred feet to the right, and the 
trail swerves a little to the left as if to avoid 
its dangerous proximity. A mile farther on 

sula. When we had crossed the isthmus we 
halted to await the train, guiding it by voice 
and gesture as it came in sight above, for the 
bare rock of the shelf retained but faint traces 
of the trail, and a mistake might have had a 
fatal ending. From our standpoint the stream 
which winds through the canon was for the 
first time visible — a silver thread more than a 
thousand feet below. Despite the distance and 
the threatening path before us, the discovery 
was reassuring, for that gradual revelation of the 
depth as experienced in our sidling approach 


the trail turns sharply to the right along the 
foot of a low rock wall, and, gently descend- 
ing, approaches the brink of the chasm, which 
has here attained three hundred feet in width 
and shows the ragged jaws of the Inferno. 
Narrower grows the rock-shelf and nearer 
comes the edge of the widening abyss as we 
proceed, crowded by the wall more and more 
to the right; and now another yawning gash 
opens directly in front. 

At this point Navajo Charley, our new guide, 
turned, and, almost doubling upon the path we 
had traveled, led the way down an incline of 
forty feet to a narrow rock isthmus which af- 
forded a passage to the top of a bold penin- 

had raised fears that the gorge was bottom- 
less — that the globe had cracked asunder. 

The further descent was not dangerous, 
judging it from a frontiersman's standpoint, but 
I remember entertaining a wish that my pony 
had a few prehensile members, and that human 
knees and shins were less susceptible to im- 
pressions of canon scenery. The train was 
again far behind, and I was wondering how the 
heavily laden mules could pass around and be- 
tween obstructions which left hardly room for 
ourselves, when noises began to reach us which 
were not comforting. The caves and fissures of 
the opposite wall uttered oaths ; the canon to the 
right and left waxed emphatic and blasphe- 



mous ; even the streak of blue overhead grew 
profane. The tones were Ellisor/s, who was 
five hundred feet behind andjis/far above us. 
.Hogan wasjiear^rrie^pmg blessings upon 
the hea^roTOldBones, our leading pack ani- 
mal, for wishing to roll down the side of the 
mountain regardless of all before her. A shrill 
outcry, followed by the crashing and bumping 
of a great boulder as it tumbled to the bot- 
tom, brought us to a halt. During the silence 
which followed I tried to find out what had 
happened, but without success. When the 
caves and fissures resumed their cursings 
Charley and I passed on. The guide had 
friends in the canon, and when we had reached 
the bottom he galloped on alone, feeling con- 
fident, I presume, that his charge might be 
trusted not to wander from a path which was 
hemmed in by walls a thousand feet high. 

First impressions on coming into the near 
presence of vertical or overhanging altitudes 
like these are disappointing. Emotions corre- 
spondingly deeper than those excited by rock 
forms a hundred feet in height have been ex- 
pected but are not experienced. The true esti- 
mate of the grand surroundings is a thing of 

growth. Ordinary standards of comparison are 
lost. Distances, sizes, heights, appear to alter 
with every change in point of view. Yonder wall 
seems but a few hundred yards away, yet that 
speck creeping along its base is a man on horse- 
back, and those other specks, crawling like in- 
sects over its talus, are sheep and goats. Look up 
towards the zenith and the crest of the near preci- 
pice fringed with tiny bushes intervenes. Move 
to a safer distance and look again ; the moun- 
tain still overhangs you. Move again and again 
and that impending top of creation follows and 
threatens you. Then when the brain becomes 
dizzy, when the eyes ache from their unaccus- 
tomed directions, when the muscles of the neck 
refuse longer to hold the head in a position to 
look upward, a conviction finds lodgment that 
the surface of the earth is far away. 

The sounds of the canon are almost as be- 
wildering as its sights. That rushing, awful 
" swish " is not a tornado, nor yet an ava- 
lanche, but the flight of a flock of little jays 
from side to side of the pocket on the left. 
That music does not proceed from a crevice 
half way up the face of the opposite wall, but 
is the noise of a Navajo singing as he rides 



mm ' . ,• Wm 

5£ ':■•■ - ''^^S^fef*; 


down the canon, perhaps three miles away. 
That ear-piercing, blood-curdling combination 
of rumble and screech is not the blast of a dozen 
river steamboats in unison, but the voice of 
Calamity Jane, who has reached the bottom 
last of the train and is calling to her fellow- 
mules just coming into sight around the corner. 

We selected for our first camping-place a 
V-shaped pocket upon the west side of the 
canon, having an area of about an acre. Op- 
posite its mouth stand the Captains — twin 
monumental rocks from which the monu- 
mental canon takes its name. The taller is 
seven hundred and forty-two feet from base 
to summit and only seventy-five feet in width 
at any point. It was hard to believe that 
Washington Monument if placed beside this 
tapering shaft would reach but two-thirds of 
the way to its top ; but the rock was dwarfed 
by the stupendous walls about it. 

Canon de Chelly (a senseless corruption of 

the Indian name, Segy) and its two prin- 
cipal branches, Monumental Canon and Canon 
del Muerto, have an aggregate length of 
more than forty miles. They vary in width 
from two hundred to three thousand feet, and 
their walls, which are precipitous throughout, 
are from eight hundred to fourteen hundred 
feet in height. Through all the branches there 
run streams of clear water uniting in the main 
canon to form the little Rio del Chelly, which 
loses itself in the sands of the northern desert 
soon after it leaves the shelter of its native 
rocks. The soil of the canon, though light, is 
fertile, and under the tillage of a more intelli- 
gent race would bear rich crops. Peaches, 
watermelons, and cantaloups, all of excellent 
quality, were abundant during our visit, but 
Navajo prices would impoverish a Wall street 
king. Corn, too, was abundant, but it was 
overripe for our use. The place is the sum- 
mer home of a considerable community of In- 



dians, and a favorite resort in the corn and 
fruit season for the western half of the entire 
tribe. Though not comparable in grandeur to 
the Grand Canon or the Yosemite, it is nev- 
ertheless one of the most beautiful of Western 
canons; and when the Navajo nation shall 
have fulfilled its destiny, be it extinction, 
civilization, or removal, this will become one 
of the show places of a marvelous plateau re- 
gion. The September climate of the canon is 
enchanting. No storms are to be looked for, be- 
cause the rainy season is over. The midday sun 
is likely to be oppressive, but there is always 
the cool shade of the overhanging rocks for 
shelter, while the mornings and evenings are 
balmy and springlike. The nights upon the 
plateau above are frigid, and heavy frost forms 
upon one's blankets, but down in this gorge 
the mountains which have absorbed the heat 
of the day give it back at night. 

Our first day's exploration was towards the 
head of the main canon. The guide said that 
all the larger ruins were in the other direction ; 
but recalling our experience in Chaco, we 
determined to examine the outlying groups 
first as a sort of pre- 
paratory course of 
study. We had an 
impression that we 
could begin at one 
end of the canon 
and examine all the 
groups — one hun- 
dred and thirteen 
in number — seria- 
tim as we traveled 
northward, an im- 
pression which did 
not outlast the day 
of its birth. 

To the observer 
riding along the 
trail the ruins look 
not larger than 
dovecotes, and 
they have the pro- 
perty of seeming 
no nearer after one 
has climbed up 
two or three hun- 
dred feet towards 
them. One readily 
undertakes the as- 
cent persuading 

himself that it is an easy task to mount the 
sloping talus, but, the jaunt accomplished, 
there is a sense of having had exercise enough 
for a day. 

In the innumerable windings of the canon 
there are found usually upon the concave 
side huge weatherings — places from which 

masses of the bedded strata have fallen, leav- 
ing shallow caves with sloping bottoms and 
high overarching tops. The detritus at the 
feet of the cliffs often affords means of access 
at some point to these retreats, and in such 
the ancients usually built their homes. Many 
groups are wholly inaccessible to moderns, later 
detrition having left wide intervening spaces 
of the smooth vertical rock. In some cases 
after climbing mountains of detritus the ad- 
venturer finds it necessary to pass long dis- 
tances along narrow shelves of rock, whence a 
fall would result in quick destruction ; or to 
climb over the smooth talus by means of foot- 
holes of the size and shape of shallow tea-cups. 
Other ruins are accessible only by rope climb- 
ing, a lasso having first been thrown over a 
projecting pole or knob; and still others can 
be gained only by " shinning " up notched log 
ladders, some of which remain in place from 
the ancient days. 

The cave-dwellers built rubble walls and 
plastered them over smoothly, outside and in, 
with mud. With the exception of two or three 
groups, the work displays nothing worthy of 


consideration in respect to architectural de- 
sign, the structures usually conforming closely 
to the sinuosities of the rock which always 
formed their rear wall. Their masonry is in 
no sense comparable to that of the builders 
of the great Chaco pueblos, but is very much 
like that of the living Pueblo Indians. Two 




groups only are found upon the canon bot- 
tom, and one I am sure (probably both) dates 
from much earlier times than those in the 
caves. In one of them a small section of the 
banded wall, the exact counterpart of those 
found in Chaco, remains. 

The cave villages are found sometimes only 
thirty feet from the level, sometimes eight hun- 
dred feet. The reason why such sites were 
selected does not fully appear ; doubtless pro- 
tection and defense were controlling motives, 
but whether from floods to which the canon 
is subject in winter and spring, from out- 
side foes, or from one another, nothing remains 
to tell. Certainly the motive was a strong one, 
for the undertaking contemplated not only the 
carriage of building materials upon human 
shoulders up the steeps in the beginning, but 
thereafter and perpetually food, fuel, and wa- 
ter. The conclusion so often and so easily 
reached, that these were places of refuge from 

the raiding attacks of the more powerful no- 
madic races or of enemies among their own kin, 
while perhaps the best that offers, does not 
wholly meet the requirements of the case; for, 
unlike the Chaco structures, these groups, with 
half a dozen exceptions, had no water-tanks, and 
their occupants would have been at the mercy 
of any who were strong enough to drive them 
to their caves. So far as appearances go they 
seem to have been, not the places of occasional 
retreat, but the regular, permanent abiding- 
places of their builders. They may have been 
storehouses and the winter homes of a race 
which in summer dwelt in temporary structures 
upon the canon bottom. The water question 
would of course have been one easy of solu- 
tion during the period of deep snows and 
floods. If this be the answer to the riddle it 
may be said that the ancients were wiser than 
their successors the Navajos ; for the latter, to 
the last man, woman, and child, leave the 



canon walls at the season when shelter would 
seem to be most desirable, and spend the winter 
upon the bleak plateau above. 

The traces of fires are found in the ruins, and 
the smearings of prehistoric gravies and soups 
are occasionally discoverable. Rock paintings 
abound. Hundreds of the shapes of human 
hands — the autographs perhaps of the dwell- 
ers — are found adorning the now inaccessible 
roofs of some of the caves. They were formed 
by thrusting the hand into the liquid coloring 
matter and slapping it with fingers extended 
upon the rock. Symbols are frequent : the 
dragon-fly, the rainbow, the sun — objects of 
reverence to the living Pueblos. Few ani- 
mals were pictured ; the elk, the antelope, the 
red deer, and the coyote being most numer- 
ously represented. Fowls of an unrecognizable 
species, and occasionally represented with one 
or more superfluous legs, are found. As works 
of art these paintings rarely rise above the 
rudest of school-boy drawings ; but sometimes 
rather elaborate scenes were attempted. The 
most remarkable I studied for an hour with 
the glass, seated three hundred feet below, but 
could make little of its meaning. It was prob- 
ably a battle scene, but it might have been a 
dance or a sacrifice. A row of thirteen black 
forms were pictured as marching elbow to el- 
bow, and below them was a second row of 
seven similar but headless forms. Two forms 
in yellow, the larger leading the smaller by the 
hand, were represented as running away from 
the advancing rows, while a gigantic figure in 
black standing upon the head of a yellow bull- 
frog was shown in the act of hurling javelins 
at the approaching army. The cave dwellings 
were ruins before the Spanish invasion ; other- 
wise this might be supposed to represent that 
event. If it be taken to be a battle scene, as 
it appears, the query suggests itself, What earlier 
race than the Spaniards ever fought in pla- 
toons ? A great many other human forms are 
pictured upon this rock, but their relationship 
to those described could not be determined. 

Unless I have greatly mistaken the purpose 
of certain queer little contrivances of masonry, 
some of the members of the smaller communi- 
ties — boarders probably — had for their bed- 
rooms cells like elongated ovens stuck upon 
outlying ledges too narrow for other use, into 
which they went feet foremost. To reach them 
they scaled escarpments over which a rabbit, 
unless the most foolhardy of his kind, could 
not be driven or tempted. There were little 
nests of this kind for children also. A civilized 
father would as lief hang his child out of a 
fifth-story window to sleep. 

The most remarkable group of ruins for sit- 
uation is found in a narrow pocket or branch 
of Monumental Canon two or three miles 
Vol. XL. — 119. 

south of the Captains. It is about seven hun- 
dred feet above the bottom of the canon, which 
is here very narrow ; and I shall despair of 
conveying any adequate idea of its situation 
and surroundings without permission to make 
use of a far-fetched illustration. Cleave the 
auditorium of a large theater midway between 
the entrance and the footlights and insert the 
part which does not contain the footlights into 
the upper half of a thousand-foot precipice. 
Remove the galleries, but in their place let 
there be a series of narrow ledges at the back 
of the concavity with zigzag connecting ledges 
between the lower and the upper ones. Raise the 
roof a hundred feet and knock out the floor en- 
tirely. You will then have spoiled your theater, 
but you will have made a fair model of the site 
of this village. Place two cheese-boxes and 
half a dozen tea-chests upon the uppermost 
ledge and you will have a model of the village it- 
self as it appeared to us from the top of the slope 
two hundred feet below. There were structures 
on the lower ledge also, but they were of a 
humbler character than those above, though 
doubtless also once occupied as dwellings. 

The finest group of ruins in these canons, — 
though not the largest, — and probably the best 
specimen of the handiwork of the cave-dwellers 
in existence, is known as the White House. 
Its site is a cave whose floor lies about thirty 
feet above the bottom of the canon, and is 
accessible only by rope climbing up the ver- 
tical face of a perfectly smooth precipice. The 
first line of structures have their fronts flush 
with the precipice, their position, together with 
their little loophole windows and irregularly 
castellated tops, suggesting that they were de- 
signed as the outer line of a strong fortress. 
Rising above this line are seen the walls of 
an inner and smaller structure, which, being 
painted white, forms a conspicuous and attrac- 
tive feature in a most remarkable landscape. 
Above, nine hundred feet of smooth bellying 
rock so overhangs the place that a plumb- 
line from its crest would pass about seventy feet 
in front of the outermost wall of the old vil- 
lage. The cave has a lateral reach of ninety- 
four feet and a depth of forty feet. The ruin 
is called by the Navajos something which sig- 
nifies " the abode of many captains." Without 
doubt it was the home of authority and com- 
parative wealth. It is the only painted cave- 
dwelling of which I have any knowledge. 
Its walls are well preserved, and those of the 
inner buildings bear evidence in their rude 
ornamentation of the superior taste of its 
dwellers. Dados with borders of saw-teeth 
and rows of dots all in yellow paint adorn the 
rooms, the alignment of which is better and 
the plastering smoother than usual. There are 
seventeen rooms in this cave. 



Upon the canon bottom just below the 
White House there stands a ruined pueblo 
much larger, and apparently of much earlier 
date, than the cave ruin. 

The largest group of ruins in this vicinity, 
and probably the largest of its class — cave- 
dwellings of masonry — in the world, is that dis- 
covered by Stevenson a year before my visit. It 
is found near the head of Canon del Muerto, 
and is known as Mummy Cave, from the fact 
that its discoverer found near it an undisturbed 
cyst from which he removed a well-preserved 
mummy. The southern wall of the canon here 
retreats, forming a wide, shallow bay, around 
which, at the height of about two hundred feet 
from the bottom, there extends a sloping shelf 
which was terraced by the ancients to make 
the foundation of their village. The crest of 
the precipice extends far enough to cover the 
entire group, which was probably the home 
of more than a thousand individuals. The 
terrace and all that stood upon it has fallen 
away, and now forms part of an immense mass 
of debris which makes the cave more easily ac- 
cessible than formerly. Only those walls re- 
main which were founded upon the solid rock 
at the back of the cave, and many of these show 
little more than the foundation lines. 

The evidence of an aristocracy or control- 
ling class is here very striking. The cave is 
shaped like two unequal crescents joined end 
to end, and the apartments, or rather cells, of 
the two portions are small and of irregular 
form, following the conformation of the rock. 
At the point of junction, however, covering 
almost entirely the narrower shelf, there stands 
a rectangular tower three stories in height, the 
rooms of which, as well as those in its imme- 
diate neighborhood, are larger and the walls 
and floors much better in construction than 
those upon either side. The tower commands 
the village, as feudal towns were commanded 
by the castles of their lords. 

This village contained several tanks, or " es- 
tufas," circular in form, and with walls of unu- 
sual strength, which were probably designed 
to hold a supply of water. It is impossible to 
discover how the ancients managed to fill them, 
but the water marks down the face of the preci- 
pice, above the village, suggested a way in 
which it may have been done. Conduits, or 
even ropes, stretched from the crest above 
to the tanks would have served the purpose in 
the rainy season. One of these structures, and 
that nearest to the tower, is unique both in 
form and ornamentation. It has a large rec- 
tangular recess at one side, while narrow ledges 
surround its interior, broken at two opposite 
points into steps, as if for descent from the 
river to the bottom. The inner coating of this 
apartment is of common clay, and was appar- 

ently put on by the later occupants of the 
village. Where this has peeled off a highly 
ornamental earlier coating of the interior is 
disclosed. It was frescoed in geometrical fig- 
ures of brownish-red, white, and yellow, and 
the workmanship is such as would not be 
discreditable to modern artisans. The pur- 
pose of this apartment cannot be determined 
with certainty. Perhaps — nay, probably — it 
marks the last stage of development which 
began with the water tank and ended in the 
place of worship. The modern pueblos have 
nothing like it. 

The Navajos have occupied this region 
for centuries, and in fact know no other home, 
although their dimmest tradition hints at a 
migration ages ago from the far north. They 
apply the term "Eua-suz-y " —the enemy — 
both to the ruins and to their builders ; but 
its pertinency cannot be discovered, since their 
traditions do not tell of wars with the ancients. 
On the contrary, they account for the depart- 
ure of the latter by superhuman agencies. 
The devil, say the Navajos, carried them 
away, and in his flight took the roofs of the 
houses with him — hence their roofless con- 

Late in the afternoon, before breaking camp 
No. i, Ellison and I went out half a mile 
from camp to look again at a group we had 
barely glanced at as we entered the canon. 
We found it inaccessible, but while study- 
ing it with the glass from the opposite side 
of the canon we accidentally discovered an- 
other and smaller group which we thought 
could be reached. It required nearly half an 
hour of hard climbing to bring us to the spot. 
The structure proved to be a small one, hav- 
ing only two apartments ; but one of them 
was sealed, showing not so much as the small- 
est peep-hole. Here was a mystery which we 
determined to solve at once. All the other 
ruins, we reasoned, had been subjected to the 
prying curiosity of the Navajos for centuries ; 
but this had escaped because the savages 
possessed no glasses, such as by a fortunate 
accident had revealed its existence to us. 
That we were on the eve of interesting discov- 
eries we could not doubt. I seized a stone, 
and attacking the mud cement of the wall 
soon effected a small hole, and then John re- 
lieved me and enlarged the hole to the size 
of his head. Dank odors, as of decaying mum- 
mies and long-entombed mysteries, seemed to 
come out. We thrust in lighted straw, but it 
went out as if put into water. John enlarged 
the hole somewhat and cautiously thrust in 
his head. He waited until his eyes had ad- 
justed themselves to the gloom, and then said 
in tones which sounded sepulchral to me : 
" I see pottery with water in it." Mirabile 



dictu / Had not pottery with water in it been 
found in the tombs of ancient Egypt ? I 
pulled him away and thrust my own head into 
the place. It seemed an hour before I could 
make out anything, but then I saw just below 
me a circle with a shining interior. A min- 
ute later I had traced a shape, as of a portly 
human body, lying upon its back, and the cir- 
cle was upon its chest. There too was a round 
thing, as its skull, lying near its neck. Then I 
slowly reached in my hand. " Look out for 
snakes," cried Ellison, and I drew back as if 
I already felt their sting. Again I reached in 
— touched the circle; it moved; my fingers 
closed upon it and slowly brought it out. 
" Great Scott, John Ellison ! Have I come 
two thousand miles and turned grave robber 
for this ?." I held in my hand a wooden shell 
with a fine wire bottom — a common sieve 
such as every New England kitchen was fur- 
nished with in my youth. Had the Eua- 
suz-y come to this, and did they bury their 
kitchen ware with their fat men ? I reached 
in again and pinched the " corpse." It proved 
to be a bag of corn. I felt for the " skull," 
but it rolled away, and in so doing disclosed 
a curious bottle-neck. I had now become 
more accustomed to the gloom, and could 

make out a variety of articles — hames, chains, 
hoes, and small ware. Enlarging the hole, I 
entered and made further discoveries. There 
were two pieces of ancient Indian pottery, and 
the round thing with the bottle-neck was a 
Pah-ute water-bottle of straw and varnish. 

John came in and we soberly discussed the 
matter, reaching the conclusion that these 
were the hidden relics of some dire tragedy. 
Some early emigrant traveling with his family 
and property in a wagon had wandered hither, 
been murdered, and the evidence of the crime 
thus concealed. The theory did not quite 
meet the facts, for how account for the Indian 
pottery and the water jar ? But we had done 
our best in its construction. The pottery and 
the bottle were at least curious, as ugly as 
anything in the National Museum at Wash- 
ington, and I determined to carry them away 
as such. A week later a villainous-looking 
Navajo and his wife rode into camp a dozen 
miles distant and demanded pay for their 
property. We had robbed not the dead Eua- 
suz-y, but the living Navajos, the place having 
been the "safe deposit" of an Indian family 
who wished to be absent from their home for 
a time. 

F T. Bickford, 





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W&&) *Y 



V 5 3E^\mi 


HE last of the neighbors 
was going home ; officious 
Mrs. Peter Downs had 
lingered late and sought 
for additional housework 
with which to prolong her 
stay. She had talked in- 
cessantly, and buzzed like 
a busy bee as she helped to put away the best 
crockery after the funeral supper, while the 
sisters Betsey and Hannah Knowles grew 
every moment more forbidding and unwilling 
to speak. They lighted a solitary small oil 
lamp at last as if for Sunday evening idleness, 
and put it on the side table in the kitchen. 

" We ain't intending to make a late evening 
of it," announced Betsey, the elder, standing 
before Mrs. Downs in an expectant, final way, 
making an irresistible opportunity for saying 
good-night. "I 'm sure we 're more than 
obleeged to ye, — ain't we, Hannah ? — but I 
don't feel 's if we ought to keep ye longer. 
We ain't going to do no more to-night, but 
set down a spell and kind of collect ourselves, 
and then make for bed." 

Susan Downs offered one more plea. " I 'd 

stop all night with ye an' welcome ; 't is gettin' 
late — an' dark," she added plaintively; but 
the sisters shook their heads quickly, and Han- 
nah said that they might as well get used to 
staying alone, since they would have to do it 
first or last. In spite of herself Mrs. Downs 
was obliged to put on her funeral best bonnet 
and shawl and start on her homeward way. 

" Close-mouthed old maids! " she grumbled 
as the door shut behind her all too soon and 
denied her the light of the lamp along the foot- 
path. Suddenly there was a bright ray from 
the window, as if some one had pushed back 
the curtain and stood with the lamp close to 
the sash. " That 's Hannah," said the retreat- 
ing guest. " She 'd told me somethin' about 
things, I know, if it had n't 'a' been for Betsey. 
Catch me workin' myself to pieces again for 
'em." But, however grudgingly this was said, 
Mrs. Downs's conscience told her that the in- 
dustry of the past two days had been some- 
what selfish on her part ; she had hoped that 
in the excitement of this unexpected funeral 
season she might for once be taken into the 
sisters' confidence. More than this, she knew 
that they were certain of her motive, and had 



deliberately refused the expected satisfaction. 
" 'T ain't as if I was one o' them curious busy- 
bodies anyway," she said to herself pityingly ; 
" they might 'a' neighbored with somebody for 
once, I do believe." Everybody would have a 
question ready for her the next day, for it was 
known that she had been slaving herself de- 
votedly since the news had come of old Cap- 
tain Knowles's sudden death in his bed from 
a stroke, the last of three which had in the 
course of a year or two changed him from 
a strong old man to a feeble, chair-bound 

Mrs. Downs stepped bravely along the dark 
country road ; she could see a light in her own 
kitchen window half a mile away, and did not 
stop to notice either the penetrating dampness 
or the shadowy woods at her right. It was a 
cloudy night, but there was a dim light over 
the open fields. She had a disposition of mind 
towards the exciting circumstances of death 
and burial, and was in request at such times 
among her neighbors ; in this she was like a 
city person who prefers tragedy to comedy, 
but not having the semblance within her 
reach, she made the most of looking on at real 
griefs and departures. 

Some one was walking towards her in the 
road ; suddenly she heard footsteps. The fig- 
ure stopped, then came forward again. 

" Oh, 't is you, ain't it ? " with a tone of 
disappointment. " I cal'lated you 'd stop all 
night, 't had got to be so late, an' I was just 
going over to the Knowles gals' ; well, to kind 
o' ask how they be, an' — " Mr. Peter Downs 
was evidently counting on his visit. 

" They never passed me the compliment," 
replied the wife. " I declare I did n't covet 
the walk home ; I 'm 'most beat out, bein' on 
foot so much. I was 'most put out with 'em 
for lettin' of me see quite so plain that my 
room was better than my company. But I don' 
know 's I blame 'em ; they want to look an' 
see what they 've got, an' kind of git by their 
selves, I expect. 'T was natural." 

Mrs. Downs knew that her husband would 
resent her first statements, being a sensitive 
and grumbling man. She had formed a pa- 
cific habit of suiting her remarks to his point 
of view to save an outburst. He contented 
himself with calling the Knowles girls hoggish, 
and put a direct question as to whether they 
had let fall any words about their situation, 
but Martha Downs was obliged to answer in 
the negative. 

" Was Enoch Holt there after the folks come 
back from the grave ? " 

"He wa' n't; they never give him no encour- 
agement neither." 

" He appeared well, I must say," continued 
Peter Downs. " He took his place next but one 

behind us in the procession, 'long of Melinda 
Dutch, an' walked to an' from with her, give 
her his arm, and then I never see him after we 
got back; but I thought he might be some- 
where in the house, an' I was out about the 
barn an' so on." 

" They was civil to him. I was by when he 
come, just steppin' out of the bedroom after 
we 'd finished layin' the old Cap'n into his cof- 
fin. Hannah looked real pleased when she see 
Enoch, as if she had n't reelly expected him, 
but Betsey stuck out her hand 's if 't was an 
eend o' board, an' drawed her face solemner 'n 
ever. There, they had natural feelin's. He 
was their own father when all was said, the 
Cap'n was, an' I don't know but he was 
clever to 'em in his way, 'ceptin' when he dis- 
appointed Hannah about her marryin' Jake 
Good'in. She l'arned to respect the old Cap'n's 
foresight, too." 

" Sakes alive, Marthy, how you do knock 
folks down with one hand an' set 'em up with 
t' other," chuckled Mr. Downs. They next 
discussed the Captain's appearance as he lay 
in state in the front room, a subject which, 
with its endless ramifications, would keep the 
whole neighborhood interested for weeks to 

An hour later the twinkling light in the 
Downs house suddenly disappeared. As Mar- 
tha Downs took a last look out of doors 
through her bedroom window she could see 
no other light ; the neighbors had all gone to 
bed. It was a little past nine, and the night 
was damp and still. 


The Captain Knowles place was eastward 
from the Downs', and a short turn in the road 
and the piece of hard-wood growth hid one 
house from the other. At this unwontedly late 
hour the elderly sisters were still sitting in their 
warm kitchen ; there were bright coals under 
the singing tea-kettle which hung from the 
crane by three or four long pothooks. Betsey 
Knowles objected when her sister offered to 
put on more wood. 

" Father never liked to leave no great of a 
fire, even though he slept right here in the 
bedroom. He said this floor was one that would 
light an' catch easy, you r'member." 

" Another winter we can move down and 
take the bedroom ourselves — 't will be warmer 
for us," suggested Hannah ; but Betsey shook 
her head doubtfully. The thought of their 
old father's grave, unwatched and undefended 
in the outermost dark field, filled their hearts 
with a strange tenderness. They had been his 
dutiful, patient slaves, and it seemed like dis- 
loyalty to have abandoned the poor shape, to 
be sitting there disregarding the thousand re- 


9 l 3 

quirements and services of the past. More than 
all, they were facing a free future ; they were 
their own mistresses at last, though past sixty 
years of age. Hannah was still a child at 
heart. She chased away a dread suspicion, 
when Betsey forbade the wood, lest this elder 
sister, who favored their father's looks, might 
take his place as stern ruler of the house- 

" Betsey," said the younger sister suddenly, 
" we '11 have us a cook stove, won't we, next 
winter ? I expect we 're going to have some- 
thing to do with ? " 

Betsey did not answer ; it was impossible to 
say whether she truly felt grief or only assumed 
it. She had been sober and silent for the most 
part since she routed neighbor Downs, though 
she answered her sister's prattling questions 
with patience and sympathy. Now she rose 
from her chair and went to one of the windows, 
and, pushing back the sash curtain, pulled the 
wooden shutter across and hasped it. 

" I ain't going to bed just yet," she explained. 
" I 've been a-waiting to make sure nobody was 
coming in. I don't know 's there '11 be any bet- 
ter time to look in the chest and see what we 've 
got to depend on. We never '11 get no chance 
to do it by day." 

Hannah looked frightened for a moment, 
then nodded, and turned to the opposite win- 
dow and pulled that shutter with much diffi- 
culty ; it had always caught and hitched and 
been provoking — a warped piece of red oak, 
when even- grained white pine would have 
saved strength and patience to three genera- 
tions of the Knowles race. Then the sisters 
crossed the kitchen and opened the bedroom 
door. Hannah shivered a little as the colder 
air struck her, and her heart beat loudly. Per- 
haps it was the same with Betsey. 

The bedroom was clean and orderly for the 
funeral guests. Instead of the blue homespun 
there was a beautifully quilted white coverlet 
which had been part of their mother's wedding 
furnishing, and this made the bedstead with 
its four low posts look unfamiliar and awesome. 
The lamplight shone through the kitchen door 
behind them, not very bright at best, but Bet- 
sey reached under the bed, and with all the 
strength she could muster pulled out the end 
of a great sea chest. The sisters tugged to- 
gether and pushed, and made the most of 
their strength before they finally brought it 
through the narrow door into the kitchen. 
The solemnity of the deed made them both 
whisper as they talked, and Hannah did not 
dare say what was in her timid heart — that 
she would rather brave discovery by daylight 
than such a feeling of being disapprovingly 
watched now in the dead of night. There 
came a slight sound outside the house which 

made her look anxiously at Betsey, but Betsey 
remained tranquil. 

" It 's nothing but a stick falling down the 
woodpile," she answered in a contemptuous 
whisper, and the younger woman was reas- 

Betsey reached deep into her pocket and 
found a great key which was worn smooth and 
bright like silver, and never had been trusted 
willingly into even her own safe hands. Han- 
nah held the lamp, and the two thin figures 
bent eagerly over the lid as it opened. Their 
shadows were waving about the low walls, and 
looked like strange shapes bowing and dan- 
cing behind them. 

The chest was stoutly timbered, as if it was 
built in some ship-yard, and there were heavy 
wrought-iron hinges and a large escutcheon for 
the keyhole that the ship's blacksmith might 
have hammered out. On the top somebody 
had scratched deeply the crossed lines for a 
game of fox and geese, and this had a trivial, 
irreverent look, and might have been the 
unforgiven fault of some idle ship's boy. The 
sisters had hardly dared look at the chest 
or to signify their knowledge of its exist- 
ence at unwary times. They had swept care- 
fully about it year after year, and wondered if 
it was indeed full of gold as the neighbors 
used- to hint ; but no matter how much found 
a way in, little had found the way out. They 
had been hampered all their lives for money, 
and in consequence had developed a wonder- 
ful facility for spinning and weaving, mending 
and making. Their small farm was an early 
example of intensive farming; they were al- 
lowed to use its products in a niggardly way, but 
the money that was paid for wool, for hay, for 
wood, and for summer crops had all gone into 
the chest. The old captain was a hard master ; 
he rarely commended and often blamed. Han- 
nah trembled before him, but Betsey faced him 
sturdily, being amazingly like him, with a fem- 
inine difference; as like as a ruled person can be 
to a ruler, for the discipline of life had taught 
the man to aggress, the woman only to defend. 
In the chest was a fabled sum of prize-money, 
besides these slender earnings of many years ; 
all the sisters' hard work and self-sacrifice were 
there in money and a mysterious largess be- 
sides. All their lives they had been looking 
forward to this hour of ownership. 

There was a solemn hush in the house ; the 
two sisters were safe from their neighbors, and 
there was no fear of interruption at such an 
hour in that hard-working community, tired 
with a day's work that had been early begun. 
If any one came knocking at the door, both 
door and windows were securely fastened. 

The eager sisters bent above the chest, they 
held their breath and talked in softest whis- 



pers. With stealthy tread a man came out of 
the woods near by. 

He stopped to listen, came nearer, stopped 
again, and then crept close to the old house. 
He stepped up on the banking, next the win- 
dow with the warped shutter; there was a 
knothole in it high above the women's heads, 
towards the top. As they leaned over the chest 
an eager eye watched them. If they had 
turned that way suspiciously the eye might 
have caught the flicker of the lamp and be- 
trayed itself. No, they were too busy : the 
eye at the shutter watched and watched. 

There was a certain feeling of relief in the 
sisters' minds because the contents of the chest 
were so commonplace at first sight. There 
were some old belongings dating back to their 
father's early days of seafaring. They unfolded 
a waistcoat pattern or two of figured stuff 
which they had seen him fold and put away 
again and again. Once he had given Betsey 
a gay China silk handkerchief, and here were 
two more like it. They had not known what 
a store of treasures might be waiting for them, 
but the reality so far was disappointing ; there 
was much spare room to begin with, and the 
wares within looked pinched and few. There 
were bundles of papers, old receipts, some 
letters in two not very thick bundles, some 
old account books with worn edges, and a 
blackened silver can which looked very small 
in comparison with their anticipation, being 
an heirloom and jealously hoarded and se- 
creted by the old man. The women began to 
feel as if his lean, angry figure were bending 
with them over the sea chest. 

They opened a package done up in many 
layers of old soft paper — a worked piece of 
Indian muslin, and an embroidered scarf which 
they had never seen before. " He must have 
brought them home to mother," said Betsey 
with a great outburst of feeling. " He never 
was the same man again ; he never would let 
nobody else have them when he found she 
was dead, poor old father ! " 

Hannah looked wistfully at the treasures. 
She rebuked herself for selfishness, but she 
thought of her pinched girlhood and the de- 
light these things would have been. Ah yes ! 
it was too late now for many things besides 
the sprigged muslin. " If I was young as I was 
once there 's lots o' things I 'd like to do now 
I 'm free," said Hannah with a gentle sigh; 
but her sister checked her anxiously — it was 
fitting that they should preserve a semblance 
of mourning even to themselves. 

The lamp stood in a kitchen chair at the 
chest's end and shone full across their faces. 
Betsey looked intent and sober as she turned 
over the old man's treasures. Under the India 
mull was an antique pair of buff trousers, a 

waistcoat of strange old-fashioned foreign stuff, 
and a blue coat with brass buttons, brought 
home from over seas, as the women knew, for 
their father's wedding clothes. They had seen 
him carry them out at long intervals to hang 
them in the spring sunshine; he had been 
very feeble the last time, and Hannah remem- 
bered that she had longed to take them from 
his shaking hands. 

" I declare for 't I wish 't we had laid him 
out in 'em, 'stead o' the robe," she whispered ; 
but Betsey made no answer. She was kneel- 
ing still, but held herself upright and looked 
away. It was evident that she was lost in her 
own thoughts. 

" I can't find nothing else by eyesight," she 
muttered. " This chest never 'd be so heavy 
with them old clothes. Stop ! Hold that light 
down, Hannah; there 's a place underneath 
here. Them papers in the till takes a shallow 
part. Oh, my gracious ! See here, will ye ? 
Hold the light, hold the light!" 

There was a hidden drawer in the chest's 
side — a long, deep place, and it was full of 
gold pieces. Hannah had seated herself in the 
chair to be out of her sister's way. She held 
the lamp with one hand and gathered her apron 
on her lap with the other, while Betsey, exult- 
ant and hawk-eyed, took out handful after 
handful of heavy coins, letting them jingle and 
chink, letting them shine in the lamp's rays, 
letting them roll across the floor — guineas, 
dollars, doubloons, old French and Spanish 
and English gold ! 

Now, ?iow / Look I The eye at the window / 

At last they have found it all ; the bag of 
silver, the great roll of bank bills, and the 
heavy weight of gold — the prize-money that 
had been like Robinson Crusoe's in the cave. 
They were rich women that night ; their faces 
grew young again as they sat side by side and 
exulted while the old kitchen grew cold. There 
was nothing they might not do within the 
range of their timid ambitions ; they were 
women of fortune now and their own mis- 
tresses. They were beginning at last to live. 

The watcher outside was cramped and 
chilled. He let himself down softly from the 
high step of the winter banking and crept 
towards the barn, where he might bury himself 
in the hay and think. His fingers were quick 
to find the peg that opened the little barn 
door; the beasts within were startled and 
stumbled to their feet, then went back to their 
slumbers. The night wore on ; the light spring 
rain began to fall, and the sound of it on the 
house roof close down upon the sisters' bed 
lulled them quickly to sleep. Twelve, one, 
two o'clock passed by. 

They had put back the money and the 
clothes and the minor goods and treasures 



and pulled the chest back into the bedroom 
so that it was out of sight from the kitchen ; 
the bedroom door was always shut by day. 
The younger sister wished to carry the money 
to their own room, but Betsey disdained such 
precaution. The money had always been safe 
in the old chest, and there it should stay. 
The next week they would go to Riverport 
and put it into the bank ; it was no use to lose 
the interest any longer. Because their father 
had lost some invested money in his early 
youth it did not follow that every bank was 
faithless. Betsey's self-assertion was amazing, 
but they still whispered to each other as they 
got ready for bed. With strange forgetfulness 
Betsey had laid the chest key on the white 
coverlet in the bedroom and left it there. 


In August of that year the whole country 
side turned out to go to court. 

The sisters had been rich for one night ; in 
the morning they waked to find themselves 
poor with a bitter pang of poverty of which 
they had never dreamed. They had said lit- 
tle, but they grew suddenly pinched and old. 
They could not tell how much money they 
had lost, except that Hannah's lap was full of 
gold, a weight she could not lift nor carry. 
After a few days of stolid misery they had 
gone to the chief lawyer of their neighbor- 
hood to accuse Enoch Holt of the robbery. 
They dressed in their best and walked sol- 
emnly side by side across the fields and along 
the road, the shortest way to the man of law. 
Enoch Holt's daughter saw them go as she 
stood in her doorway and felt a cold shiver 
run through her frame as if in foreboding. 
Her father was not at home ; he had left for 
Boston late on the afternoon of Captain 
Knowles's funeral. He had had notice the 
day before of the coming in of a ship in which 
he owned a thirty-second ; there was talk of 
selling the ship, and the owners' agent had 
summoned him. He had taken pains to go to 
the funeral because he and the old captain had 
been on bad terms ever since they had bought 
a piece of woodland together and the captain 
declared himself wronged at the settling of 
accounts. He was growing feeble even then, 
and had left the business to the younger man. 
Enoch Holt was not a trusted man, yet he 
had never before been openly accused of dis- 
honesty. He was not a professor of religion, 
but foremost on the secular side of church 
matters. Most of the men in that region were 
hard men; it was difficult to get money, and 
there was little real comfort in a community 
where the sterner, stingier, forbidding side of 
New England life was well exemplified. 

The proper steps had been taken by the 
officers of the law, and in answer to the writ 
Enoch Holt appeared, much shocked and very 
indignant, and was released on bail which cov- 
ered the sum his shipping interest had brought 
him. The weeks had dragged by, June and 
July were long in passing, and here was court 
day at last, and all the townsfolk hastening 
by high-roads and by-roads to the court-house. 
The Knowles girls themselves had risen at 
break of day and walked the distance stead- 
fastly, like two of the three Fates : who would 
make the third, to cut the thread for their 
enemy's disaster ? Public opinion was divided. 
There were many voices ready to speak on the 
accused man's side ; a sharp-looking acquain- 
tance left his business in Boston to swear that 
Holt was in his office before noon on the day 
following the robbery, and that he had spent 
most of the night in Boston, as proved by 
several minor details of their interview. As 
for Holt's young married daughter, she was a 
favorite with the townsfolk, and her husband 
was away at sea overdue these last few weeks. 
She sat on one of the hard court benches with 
a young child in her arms, born since its father 
sailed; they had been more or less unlucky, 
the Holt family, though Enoch himself was a 
man of brag and bluster. 

All the hot August morning until the noon 
recess, and all the hot August afternoon, fly 
teased and wretched with the heavy air, the 
crowd of neighbors listened to the trial. There 
was not much evidence brought; everybody 
knew that Enoch Holt left the funeral proces- 
sion hurriedly and went away on horseback 
towards Boston. His daughter knew no more 
than this. The Boston man gave his testimony 
impatiently, and one or two persons insisted 
that they saw the accused on his way at night- 
fall several miles from home. 

As the testimony came out it all tended to 
prove his innocence, though public opinion 
was to the contrary. The Knowles sisters 
looked more stern and gray hour by hour; 
their vengeance was not to be satisfied ; their 
accusation had been listened to and found 
wanting, but their instinctive knowledge of the 
matter counted for nothing. They must have 
been watched through the knothole of the 
shutter; nobody had noticed it until some years 
before Enoch Holt himself had spoken of the 
light's shining through on a winter's night as 
he came towards the house. The chief proof 
was that nobody else could have done the 
deed. But why linger over pros and cotis ? 
The jury returned directly with a verdict of 
" not proven,"' and the tired audience left the 

But not until Hannah Knowles with angry 
eyes had risen to her feet. 



The sterner elder sister tried to pull her back; 
every one said that they should have looked 
to Betsey to say the awful words that followed, 
not to her gentler companion. It was Hannah, 
broken and disappointed, who cried in a strange 
high voice as Enoch Holt was passing by 
without a look : 

" You stole it, you thief! You know it in your 
heart ! " 

The startled man faltered, then he faced the 
women. The people who stood near seemed 
made of eyes as they stared to see what he 
would say. 

" I swear by my right hand I never touched 

" Curse your right hand then ! " cried Han- 
nah Knowles, growing tall and thin like a 
white flame drawing upward. " Curse your 
right hand, yours and all your folks' that fol- 
low you ! May I live to see the day ! " 

The people drew back while for a moment 
accused and accuser stood face to face. Then 
Holt's flushed face turned white, and he shrank 
from the fire in those wild eyes, and walked 
away clumsily down the court-room. Nobody 
followed him, nobody shook hands with him 
or told the acquitted man that they were glad 
of his release. Half an hour later Betsey and 
Hannah Knowles took their homeward way, 
to begin their hard round of work again. The 
horizon that had widened with such glory for 
one night had closed round them again like 
an iron wall. 

Betsey was alarmed and excited by her sis- 
ter's uncharacteristic behavior, and she looked 
at her anxiously from time to time. Hannah had 
become the harder-faced of the two. Her dis- 
appointment was the keener, for she had kept 
more of the unsatisfied desires of her girlhood 
until that dreary morning when they found the 
sea chest rifled and the treasure gone. 

Betsey said inconsequently that it was a 
pity she did not have that black silk gown 
that would stand alone. They had planned 
for it over the open chest, and Hannah's was 
to be a handsome green. They might have 
worn them to court. But even the pathetic 
facetiousness of her elder sister did not bring 
a smile to Hannah Knowles'sface, and the next 
day one was at the loom and the other at the 
wheel again. The neighbors talked about the 
curse with horror; in their minds a fabric of 
sad fate was spun from the bitter words. 

The Knowles sisters never had worn silk 
gowns and they never would. Sometimes Han- 
nah or Betsey would stealthily look over the 
chest in one or the other's absence. One day 
when Betsey was very old and her mind had 
grown feeble she tied her own India silk hand- 
kerchief about her neck, but they never used the 
other two. They aired the wedding suit once 

every spring as long as they lived. They were 
both too old and forlorn to make up the India 
mull. Nobody knows how many times they 
took everything out of the heavy old clamped 
box and peered into every nook and corner to 
see if there was not a single gold piece left. 
They never answered any one who made bold 
to speak of their misfortune. 


Enoch Holt had been a seafaring man in 
his early days, and there was news that the 
owners of a Salem ship in which he held a 
small interest wished him to go out as super- 
cargo. He was brisk and well in health, and 
his son-in-law, an honest but an unlucky fel- 
low, had done less well than usual, so that no- 
body was surprised when Enoch made ready 
for his voyage. It was nearly a year after the 
theft, and nothing had come so near to restor- 
ing him to public favor as his apparent lack 
of ready money. He openly said that he put 
great hope in his adventure to the Spice Isl- 
ands, and when he said farewell one Sunday 
to some members of the dispersing congrega- 
tion more than one person wished him heartily 
a pleasant voyage and safe return. He had an 
insinuating tone of voice and an imploring 
look that day, and this fact, with his probable 
long absence and the dangers of the deep, won 
him much sympathy. It is a shameful thing to 
accuse a man wrongfully, and Enoch Holt had 
behaved well since the trial ; and, what is more, 
had shown no accession to his means of living. 
So away he went with a fair amount of good 
wishes, though one or two persons assured re- 
monstrating listeners that they thought it likely 
Enoch would make a good voyage, better 
than common, and show himself forwarded 
when he came to port. Soon after his depart- 
ure Mrs. Peter Downs and an intimate ac- 
quaintance discussed the ever-exciting subject 
of the Knowdes robbery over a friendly cup 
of tea. 

They were in the Downs kitchen and quite 
by themselves. Peter Downs himself had been 
drawn as a juror, and had been for two days at 
the county town. Mrs. Downs was giving her- 
self to social interests in his absence, and Mrs. 
Forder, an asthmatic but very companionable 
person, had arrived by two o'clock that after- 
noon with her knitting work, sure of being 
welcome. The two old friends had first talked 
over varied subjects of immediate concern, 
but when supper was nearly finished they fell 
back upon the lost Knowles gold, as has been 
already said. 

" They got a dreadful blow, poor gals," 
wheezed Mrs. Forder with compassion. 
" 'T was harder for them than for most folks ; 



they 'd had a long stent with the oF gentle- 
man ; very arbitrary, very arbitrary." 

" Yes," answered Mrs. Downs, pushing back 
her tea-cup, then lifting it again to see if it 
was quite empty. " Yes, it took holt o' Han- 
nah the most. I should 'a' said Betsey was a 
good deal the most set in her ways an' would 
'a' been most tore up, but 't wa' n't so." 

" Lucky that Holt's folks sets on the other 
aisle in the meetin' house, I do consider, so 't 
they need n't face each other sure as Sabbath 
comes round." 

" I see Hannah an' him come face to face 
two Sabbaths afore Enoch left. So happened 
he dallied to have a word 'long o' Deacon 
Good'in, an' him an' Hannah stepped front of 
each other 'fore they knowed what they 's about. 
I sh'd thought her eyes 'd looked right through 
him. No one of 'em took the word; Enoch 
he slinked off pretty quick." 

" I see 'em too," said Mrs. Forder; " made 
my blood run cold." 

" Nothin' ain't come of the curse yit," — Mrs. 
Downs lowered the tone of her voice, — " least, 
folks says so. It kind o' worries pore Phoebe 
Holt — Miss Dow, I would say. She was 
narved all up at the time o' the trial, an' when 
her next baby come into the world first thin' 
she made out t' ask me was whether it seemed 
likely, an' she gived me a pleadin' look as if 
I 'd got to tell her what she had n't heart to 
ask. ' Yes, dear,' says I, ' put up his little hands 
to me kind of wonted ' ; an' she turned a look 
on me like another creatur', so pleased an' 

" I s'pose you don't see no great of the 
Knowles gals ? " inquired Mrs. Forder, who 
lived two miles away in the other direction. 

" They stepped to the door yisterday when 
I was passin' by, an' I went in an' set a spell 
long of 'em," replied the hostess. " They 'd 
got pestered with that ol' loom o' theirn. 'Fore 
I thought, says I, ' 'T is all worn out, Betsey,' 
says I ; ' why on airth don't ye git somebody 
to git some o' your own wood an' season it 
well so 't won't warp, same 's mine done, an' 
build ye a new one ? ' But Betsey muttered 
an' twitched away ; 't wa' n't like her, but they 're 
dis'p'inted at every turn, I s'pose, an' feel poor 
where they 've got the same 's ever to do 
with. Hannah's a-coughin' this spring 's if 
somethin' ailed her. I asked her if she had 
bad feelin's in her pipes, an' she said yis, she 
had, but not to speak of 't before Betsey. I 'm 
goin' to fix her up some hoarhound an' ele- 
campane quick 's the ground 's nice an' warm 
an' roots livens up a grain more. They 're 
limp an' wizened 'long to the fust of the spring. 
Them would be service'ble, simmered away to 
a syrup 'long o' molasses ; now don't you think 
so, Miss Forder ? " 
Vol. XL. — 120. 


" Excellent," replied the wheezing dame. 
" I covet a portion myself, now you speak. 
Nothin' cures my complaint, but a new rem- 
edy takes holt clever sometimes, an' eases me 
for a spell." And she gave a plaintive sigh, and 
began to knit again. 

Mrs. Downs rose and pushed the supper 
table to the wall and drew her chair nearer to 
the stove. The April nights were chilly. 

" The folks is late comin' after me," said 
Mrs. Forder, ostentatiously. " I may 's well 
confess that I told 'em if they was late with 
the work they might let go o' fetchin' o' me 
an' I 'd walk home in the mornin' ; take it 
easy when I was fresh. Course I mean ef 
't would n't put you out : I knowed you was 
all alone, an' I kind o' wanted a change." 

" Them words was in my mind to utter while 
we was to table," avowed Mrs. Downs, hos- 
pitably. " I ain't reelly afeared, but 't is sort 
o' creepy fastenin' up an' goin' to bed alone. 
Nobody can't help hearkin', an' every common 
noise starts you. I never used to give nothin' 
a thought till the Knowleses was robbed, 

" 'T was mysterious, I do maintain," ac- 
knowledged Mrs. Forder. " Comes over me 

9 i8 


sometimes p'raps 't was n't Enoch ; he 'd 'a' 
branched out more in course o' time. I 'm 
waitin' to see if he does extry well to sea 'fore 
I let my mind come to bear on his bein' clean- 

" Plenty thought 't was the ole Cap'n come 
back for it an' sperited it away. Enough said 
that 't was n't no honest gains ; most on 't was 



prize-money o' slave ships, an' all kinds o' 
devil's gold was mixed in. I s'pose you 've 
heard that said ? " 

"Time an' again," responded Mrs. Forder; 
" an' the worst on 't was simple ole Pappy 
Flanders went an' told the Knowles gals them- 
selves that folks thought the ole Cap'n come 
back an' got it, and Hannah done wrong to 
cuss Enoch Holt an' his ginerations after him 
the way she done." 

" I think it took holt on her ter'ble after all 
she 'd gone through," said Mrs. Downs, com- 
passionately. "He ain't near so simple as he 
is ugly, Pappy Flanders ain't. I 've seen him 
set here an' read the paper sober 's anybody 
when I 've been goin' about my mornin's work 
in the shed-room, an' when I 'd come in to look 
about he 'd twist it with his hands an' roll his 
eyes an' begin to git off some o' his gabble. 
I think them wanderin' cheap-wits likes the fun 
on 't an' 'scapes stiddy work, an' gits the rovin' 
habit so fixed it sp'iles 'em." 

" My gran'ther was to the South Seas in his 
young days," related Mrs. Forder, impressively, 

" an' he said cussin' was common there. I 
mean sober spitin' with a cuss. He seen one 
o' them black folks git a gredge against an- 
other an' go an' set down an' look stiddy at 
him in his hut an' cuss him in his mind an' set 
there an' watch, watch, until the other kind o' 
took sick an' died, all in a fortnight, I believe 
he said; 't would make your blood run cold 
to hear gran'ther describe 
it, 't would so. He never 
done nothin' but set an' 
look, an' folks would give 
him somethin' to eat now 
an' then, as if they thought 
't was all right, an' the other 
one 'd try to go an' come, 
an' at last he hived away 
altogether an' died. I don't 
know what you 'd call it 
that ailed him. There 's 
suthin' in cussin' that 's bad 
for folks, now I tell ye, Miss 

" Hannah's eyes always makes me 
creepy now," Mrs. Downs confessed 
uneasily. " They don't look pleadin' 
an' childish same 's they used to. 
Seems to me as if she 'd had the 
worst on 't." 
" We ain't seen the end on 't yit," said 
Mrs. Forder, impressively. " I feel it with- 
in me, Marthy Downs, an' it 's a terrible 
thing to have happened right amon'st us 
in Christian times. If we live long enough 
we 're goin' to have plenty to talk over in 
our old age that 's come o' that cuss. Some 
seed 's shy o' sproutin' till a spring when 
the s'ile 's jist right to breed it." 

" There 's lobeely now," agreed Mrs. Downs, 
pleased to descend to prosaic and familiar lev- 
els. " They ain't a good crop one year in six, 
and then you find it in a place where you 
never observed none to grow afore, like 's not ; 
ain't it so, reelly ? " And she rose to clear the 
table, pleased with the certainty of a guest that 
night. Their conversation was not reassuring 
to the heart of a timid woman alone in an 
isolated farm-house on a dark spring evening, 
especially so near the anniversary of old Cap- 
tain Knowles's death. 


Later in these rural lives by many years 
two aged women were crossing a wide field 
together, following a foot-path such as one 
often finds between widely separated homes 
of the New England country. Along these 
lightly traced thoroughfares the children go 
to play, and lovers to plead, and older people 
to companion one another in work and pleas- 



ure, in sickness and sorrow ; generation after 
generation comes and goes again by these coun- 
try by-ways. 

The foot-path led from Mrs. Forder's to an- 
other farm-house half a mile beyond, where 
there had been a wedding. Mrs. Downs was 
there, and in the June weather she had been 
easily persuaded to go home to tea with Mrs. 
Forder with the promise of being driven home 
later in the evening. Mrs. Downs's husband 
had been dead three years, and her friend's 
large family was scattered from the old nest ; 
they were lonely at times in their later years, 
these old friends, and found it very pleasant 
now to have a walk together. Thin little Mrs. 
Forder, with all her wheezing, was the stronger 
and more active of the two ; Mrs. Downs had 
grown heavier and weaker with advancing 

They paced along the foot-path slowly, Mrs. 
Downs rolling in her gait like a sailor, and 
availing herself of every pretext to stop and 
look at herbs in the pasture ground they 
crossed, and at the growing grass in the mow- 
ing fields. They discussed the wedding mi- 
nutely, and then where the way grew wider 
they walked side by side instead of following 
each other, and their voices sank to the low 
tone that betokens confidence. 

" You don't say that you really put faith in 
all them old stories ? " 

" It ain't accident altogether, noways you 
can fix it in your mind," maintained Mrs. 
Downs. " Need n't tell me that cussin' don't 
do neither good nor harm. I should n't want 
to marry amon'st the Holts if I was young 
ag'in ! I r'member when this young man was 
born that 's married to-day, an' the fust thing 
his poor mother wanted to know was about 
his hands bein' right. I said yes they was, but 
las' year he was twenty year old and come 
home from the frontier with one o' them hands 
— his right one — shot off in a fight. They say 
't happened to sights o' other fellows, an' their 
laigs gone too, but I count 'em over on my 
fingers, them Holts, an' he 's the third. May 
say that 't was all an accident his mother's 
gittin' throwed out o' her waggin comin' home 
from meetin', an' her wrist not bein' set good, 
an' she, bein' run down at the time, 'most lost 
it altogether, but thar' it is stiffened up an' no 
good to her. There was the second. An' 
Enoch Holt hisself come home from the 
Chiny seas, made a good passage an' a sight o' 
money in the pepper trade, jest 's we expected, 
an' goin' to build him a new house, an' the 
frame gives a kind o' lurch when they was 
raisin' of it an' surges over on to him an' nips 
him under. ' Which arm ? ' says everybody 
along the road when they was comin' an' goin' 
with the doctor. ' Right one — got to lose it,' 

says the doctor to 'em, an' next time Enoch 
Holt got out to meetin' he stood up in the 
house o' God with the hymn-book in his left 
hand, an' no right hand to turn his leaf with. 
He knowed what we was all a-thinkin'." 

"Well," said Mrs. Forder, very short- 
breathed with climbing the long slope of the 
pasture hill, " I don't know but I 'd as soon be 
them as the Knowles gals. Hannah never 
knowed no peace again after she spoke them 
words in the co't-house. They come back an' 
harnted her, an' you know, Miss Downs, better 
'n I do, being door-neighbors as one may say, 
how they lived their lives out like wild beasts 
into a lair." 

" They used to go out some by night to git 
the air," pursued Mrs. Downs with interest. 

^ r 


" I used to open the door an' step right in, 
an' I used to take their yarn an' stuff 'long o' 
mine an' sell 'em, an' do for the poor stray 
creatur's long 's they 'd let me. They 'd be 
grateful for a mess o' early pease or potatoes 
as ever you see, an' Peter he allays favored 
'em with pork, fresh an' salt, when we slaugh- 



tered. The old Cap'n kept 'em child'n long as 
he lived, an' then they was too old to l'arn 
different. I allays liked Hannah the best till 
that change struck her. Betsey she held out 
to the last jest about the same. I don't know, 
now I come to think of it, but what she felt 
it the most o' the two." 

" They 'd never let me s' much as git a look 
at 'em," complained Mrs. Forder. " Folks got 
awful stories a-goin' one time. I 've heard it 
said, an' it allays creeped me cold all over, 
that there was somethin' come an' lived with 
'em — a kind o' black shadder, a cobweb kind 


o' a man-shape that followed 'em about the 
house an' made a third to them ; but they got 
hardened to it theirselves, only they was afraid 
't would follow if they went anywheres from 
home. You don't believe no such a piece o' 

nonsense ? — But there, I 've asked ye times 
enough before." 

" They 'd got shadders enough, poor cre- 
tur's," said Mrs. Downs with reserve. " Was 
n't no kind o' need to make 'em up no spooks, 
as I know on. Well, here 's these young folks 
a-startin' ; I wish 'em well, I 'm sure. She likes 
him with his one hand better than most gals 
likes them as has a good sound pair. They 
looked prime happy; I hope no curse won't 
foller 'em." 

The friends stopped again — poor, short- 
winded bodies — on the crest of the low hill and 
turned to look at the wide 
landscape, bewildered by the 
marvelous beauty and the 
sudden flood of golden sun- 
set light that poured out of 
the western sky. They could 
not remember that they had 
ever observed the wide view 
before ; it was like a revela- 
tion or an outlook towards the 
celestial country, the sight of 
their own green farms and the 
country-side that bounded 
them. It was a pleasant 
country indeed, their own 
New England : their petty 
thoughts and vain imagin- 
ings seemed futile and un- 
related to so fair a scene of 
things. But the figure of a 
man who was crossing the 
meadow below looked like 
a malicious black insect. It 
was an old man, it was 
Enoch Holt ; time had worn 
and bent him enough to 
have satisfied his bitterest foe. The women 
could see his empty coat-sleeve flutter as 
he walked slowly and unexpectantly in that 
glorious evening light. 

Sarah Orne Jewett. 


IT held for me naught of power : 
" Time lost ! " was the world's decree ; 
And yet, 't is that empty hour 
Has filled my life for me. 

Julie M. Lippmann. 


I am obnoxious to each carping tongue 
That says my hand a needle better fits. 

Men can do best, and women know it well ; 
Preeminence in each and all is yours, 
Yet grant some small acknowledgment of ours. 
— Anne Bradstreet, 1640. 

Let us be wise, and not impede the soul. Let 
her work as she will. Let us have one creative 
energy, one incessant revelation. Let it take what 
form it will, and let us not bind it by the past to 
man or woman. — Margaret Fuller, 1844. 

T is difficult to disengage 
a single thread from the 
living web of a nation's 
literature. The interplay 
of influences is such that 
the product spun from the 
heart and brain of woman 
alone must, when thus 
disengaged, lose something of its significance. 
In criticism a classification based upon sex is 
necessarily misleading and inexact. As far as 
difference between the literary work of women 
and that of men is created by difference of 
environment and training it may be regarded 
as accidental ; while the really essential differ- 
ence, resulting from the general law that the 
work of woman shall somehow subtly ex- 
press womanhood, not only varies widely in 
degree with the individual worker, but is, in 
certain lines of production, almost ungrasp- 
able by criticism. We cannot rear walls which 
shall separate literature into departments, upon 
a principle elusive as the air. " It is no more 
the order of nature that the especially femi- 
nine element should be incarnated pure in any 
form, than that the masculine energy should 
exist unmingled with it in any form." The 
experiment which, Lowell tells us, Nature tried 
in shaping the genius of Hawthorne, she re- 
peats and reverses at will. 

In practice the evil effects which have fol- 
lowed the separate consideration of woman's 
work in literature are sufficiently plain. The 
debasement of the coin of criticism is a* fatal 
measure. The dearest foe of the woman artist 
in the past has been the suave and chivalrous 
critic, who, judging all " female writers " by a 
special standard, has easily bestowed the un- 
earned wreath. 

The present paper is grounded, it will be 
seen, upon no preference for the Shaker-meet- 
ing arrangement which prevailed so long in 
Vol. XL.— 121. 

our American temple of the Muses. It has 
seemed desirable, in a historical review of the 
work of women in this country, to follow the 
course of their effort in the field of literature ; 
to note the occasional impediments of the 
stream, its sudden accessions of force, its gen- 
eral tendency, and its gradual widening. 

The colonial period has, of course, little to 
give us. The professional literary woman 
was then unknown. The verses of Mrs. Anne 
Bradstreet, called in flattery a the tenth Muse," 
were " the fruit but of some few hours cur- 
tailed from her sleep and other refreshments." 
The negro girl Phillis Wheatley, whose poet- 
ical efforts had been published under aristo- 
cratic patronage in England, when robbed of 
her mistress by death " resorted to marriage " 
— not to literature — " as the only alternative 
of destitution." Mrs. Mercy Warren was. never 
obliged to seek support from that sharp -pointed 
pen which copied so cleverly the satiric style 
of Pope, and which has left voluminous records 
of the Revolution. She too wrote her trage- 
dies " for amusement, in the solitary hours 
when her friends were abroad." 

Miss Hannah Adams, born in Massachu- 
setts in 1755, may be accepted as the first 
American woman who made literature her pro- 
fession. Her appearance as a pioneer in this 
country corresponds closely in time with that 
of Mary Wollstonecraft in England. She wrote, 
at seventy-seven, the story of her life. Her 
account sets forth clearly the difficulties which 
in her youth had to be dealt with by a woman 
seriously undertaking authorship. Ill health, 
which forbade her attending school, was an 
individual disadvantage ; but she remarks in- 
cidentally on the defectiveness of the country 
school, where girls learned only to write and 
cipher, and were in summer " instructed by 
females in reading, sewing, and other kinds of 
work. ... I remember that my first idea 
of the happiness of heaven was of a place 
where we should find our thirst for knowledge 
fully gratified." How pathetically the old 
woman recalls the longing of the eager girl! 
All her life she labored against odds ; learning, 
however, the rudiments of Latin, Greek, 
geography, and logic, " with indescribable 
pleasure and avidity," from some gentlemen 
boarding at her father's house. Becoming in- 
terested in religious controversy, she formed 
the plan of compiling a " View of Religions " ; 
not at first hoping to derive what she calls 
" emolument " from the work. To win bread 



she relied at this time upon spinning, sewing, 
or knitting, and, during the Revolutionary war, 
on the weaving of bobbin lace ; afterwards fall- 
ing back on her scant classical resources to 
teach young gentlemen Latin and Greek. 
Meanwhile the compilation went on. " Read- 
ing much religious controversy," observes Miss 
Adams, " must be extremely trying to a female, 
whose mind, instead of being strengthened by 
those studies which exercise the judgment and 
give stability to the character, is debilitated 
by reading romances and novels." This sense 
of disadvantage, of the meekly accepted bur- 
den of sex, pervades the autobiography ; it 
seems "the story of a patient cripple. When tlie 
long task was done her inexperience made her 
the dupe of a dishonest printer; and, although 
the book sold well, her only compensation was 
fifty copies, for which she was obliged herself 
to find purchasers, having previously procured 
four hundred subscribers. Fortunately she had 
the copyright; and before the publication of 
a second edition she chanced to make the ac- 
quaintance of a clerical good Samaritan, who 
transacted the business for her. The " emolu- 
ment " derived from this second edition at last 
enabled her to pay her debts, and to put out 
a small sum upon interest. Her " History of 
New England," in the preparation of which 
her eyesight was nearly sacrificed, met with a 
good sale ; but an abridgment of it brought 
her nothing, on account of the failure of the 
printer. She sold the copyright of her " Evi- 
dences of Christianity " for one hundred dol- 
lars in books. 

This, then, is our starting-point — evident 
character and ability, at a disadvantage both in 
production and in the disposal of the product ; 
imperfect educational equipment ; and a hope- 
less consciousness of inferiority, amounting al- 
most to an inability to stand upright mentally. 

Susanna Rowson, who wrote the popular 
" Charlotte Temple," may be classed as an 
American novelist, though not born in this 
country. She appears also as a writer of patri- 
otic songs, an actress, a teacher, and the com- 
piler of a dictionary and other school-books. 
" The Coquette ; or, the History of Eliza Whar- 
ton," by Hannah Webster Foster, was an- 
other prime favorite among the formal novels 
of the day. 

Kind Miss Hannah Adams, in her old age, 
chanced to praise a certain metrical effort, un- 
promisingly labeled " Jephthah's Rash Vow," 
put forth by a girl of sixteen, Miss Caroline 
Howard. Here occurs an indicative touch. 
" When I learned," says this commended Miss 
Caroline, " that my verses had been surrepti- 
tiously printed in a newspaper, I wept bitterly, 
and was as alarmed as if I had been detected 
in man's apparel." Such was the feeling with 

which the singing-robes were donned by a 
maiden in 1810 — a state of affairs soon to be 
replaced by a general fashion of feminine sing- 
ing-robes of rather cheap material. During 
the second quarter of the present century con- 
ditions somewhat improved, and production 
greatly increased. " There was a wide manifes- 
tation of that which bears to pure ideality an 
inferior relationship," writes Mr. Stedman of 
the general body of our literature at this pe- 
riod. In 1 848 Dr. Griswold reports that " women 
among us are taking a leading part"; that 
" the proportion of female writers at this mo- 
ment in America far exceeds that which the 
present or any other age in England exhibits." 
Awful moment in America ! one is led to exclaim 
by a survey of the poetic field. Alas, the verse 
of those " Tokens," and " Keepsakes," and 
" Forget-Me-Nots," and " Magnolias," and 
all the rest of the annuals, all glorious without 
in their red or white Turkey morocco and 
gilding ! Alas, the flocks of quasi swan-singers ! 
They have sailed away down the river of Time, 
chanting with a monotonous mournfulness. 
We need not speak of them at length. One 
of them early wrote about the Genius of Ob- 
livion; most of them wrote for it. It was not 
their fault that their toil increased the sum of 
the " Literature suited to Desolate Islands." 
The time was out of joint. Sentimentalism in- 
fected both continents. It was natural enough 
that the infection should seize most strongly 
upon those who were weakened by an intel- 
lectual best-parlor atmosphere, with small 
chance of free out-of-door currents. They had 
their reward. Their crude constituencies were 
proud of them; and not all wrought without 
" emolument," though it need hardly be said 
that verse- making was not and is not, as a rule, 
a remunerative occupation. Some names sur- 
vive, held in the memory of the public by a 
few small, sweet songs on simple themes, prob- 
ably undervalued by their authors, but float- 
ing now like flowers above the tide that has 
swallowed so many pretentious, sand-based 

Mrs. Lydia H. Sigourney, the most prolific 
poetess of the period, was hailed as " the Amer- 
ican Mrs. Hemans." A gentle and pious 
womanhood shone through her verse ; but her 
books are undisturbed and dusty in the libra- 
ries now, and likely to remain so. Maria 
Gowen Brooks — "Maria del Occidente " — 
was, on the other hand, not popular at home ; 
but put forth a far stronger claim than Mrs. 
Sigourney, and won indeed somewhat dis- 
proportionate praises abroad. " Southey says 
' Zophiel ; or, The Bride of Seven,' is by some 
Yankee woman," writes Charles Lamb ; " as 
if there had ever been a woman capable of 
anything so great ! " One is glad that we need 


9 2 3 

not now consider as the acme of woman's poetic 
achievement this metrical narrative of the loves 
of the angels; nevertheless, it is on the whole 
a remarkably sustained work, with a gorgeous- 
ness of coloring which might perhaps be traced 
to its author's Celtic strain. 

As Mrs. Samuel Gilman, Caroline Howard, 
of whom we have already spoken, carried the 
New England spirit into a Southern home, and 
there wrote not only verses, but sketches and 
tales, much in the manner of her sisters who 
never left the Puritan nest, though dealing at 
times with material strange to them, as in her 
" Recollections of a Southern Matron." With 
the women of New England lies our chief con- 
cern, until a date comparatively recent. A 
strong, thinking, working race — all know the 
type ; granite rock, out of its crevices the unex- 
pected harebells trembling here and there. As 
writers they have a general resemblance ; in one 
case a little more mica and glitter, in another 
more harebells than usual. Mrs. Sigourney, 
for instance, presents an azure predominance 
of the flowery, on a basis of the practical. 
Think of her fifty-seven volumes — copious 
verse, religious and sentimental ; sketches of 
travel ; didactic " Letters to Mothers," " Let- 
ters to Young Ladies "; the charmingly garru- 
lous " Letters of Life," published after her 
death. Quantity, dilution, diffusiveness, the 
dispersion of energy in a variety of aims — 
these were the order of the day. Lydia Maria 
Child wrote more than thirty-five books and 
pamphlets, beginning with the apotheosis of 
the aboriginal American in romance, ending 
in the good fight with slavery, and taking in 
by the way domestic economy, the progress 
of religious ideas, and the Athens of Pericles, 
somewhat romanticized. Firm granite here, 
not without ferns of tenderest grace. It is very 
curious and impressive, the self-reliant dignity 
with which these noble matrons circumambu- 
late the whole field of literature with errant feet, 
but with a character central and composed. 
They are " something better than their verse," 
and also than their prose. Why was it that the 
dispersive tendency of the time showed itself 
especially in the literary effort of women ? Per- 
haps the scattering, haphazard kind of educa- 
tion then commonly bestowed upon girls helped 
to bring about such a condition of things. Effi- 
cient work, in literature as in other professions, 
is dependent in a degree upon preparation; not 
indeed upon the actual amount of knowledge 
possessed, but upon the training of the mind 
to sure action, and the vitality of the spark of 
intellectual life communicated in early days. 
To the desultory and aimless education of 
girls at this period, and their continual servi- 
tude to the sampler, all will testify. " My 
education," says Mrs. Gilman, " was exceed- 

ingly irregular, a perpetual passing from school 
to school. I drew a very little and worked 
' The Babes in the Wood ' on white satin, with 
floss silk." By and by, however, she "was ini- 
tiated into Latin," studied Watts's " Logic " 
by herself, and joined a private class in French. 
Lydia Huntley (Mrs. Sigourney) fared some- 
what better, pursuing mathematics, though 
she admits that too little time was accorded 
to the subject, and being instructed in " the 
belles-lettres studies " by competent teachers. 
Her school education ceased at thirteen ; she 
afterwards worked alone over history and men- 
tal philosophy, had tutors in Latin and French, 
and even dipped into Hebrew, under clerical 
guidance. This has a deceptively advanced 
sound ; we are to learn presently that she was 
sent away to boarding-school, where she ap- 
plied herself to " embroidery of historical 
scenes, filigree, and other finger-works." (May 
we not find a connection between this kind of 
training and the production of dramatic char- 
acters as lifelike as those figures in floss silk ? 
Was it not a natural result, that corresponding 
" embroidery of historical scenes " performed 
by the feminine pen ? ) Lydia Maria Francis 
(Mrs. Child), " apart from her brother's com- 
panionship, had, as usual, a very unequal share 
of educational opportunities ; attending only 
the public schools," — the public schools of 
the century in its teens, — " with one year at 
a private seminary." Catherine Sedgwick, 
"reared in an atmosphere of high intelligence," 
still confesses, " I have all my life felt the want 
of more systematic training." 

Another cause of the scattering, unmethodi- 
cal supply may have been the vagueness of the 
demand. America was not quite sure what it 
was proper to expect of the " female writer " ; 
and perhaps that lady herself had a lingering 
feudal idea that she could hold literary terri- 
tory only on condition of stout pen service in 
the cause of the domestic virtues and pudding. 
" In those days," says Thomas Wentworth 
Higginson, " it seemed to be held necessary 
for American women to work their passage 
into literature by first compiling a cookery 
book." Thus we have Mrs. Child's " Frugal 
Housewife " ; and we find clever Eliza Leslie, 
of Philadelphia, putting forth " Seventy-five 
Receipts " before she ventures upon her hu- 
morous and satirical " Pencil Sketches." The 
culinary tradition was carried on, somewhat 
later, by Catherine Beecher, with her " Do- 
mestic Receipt Book " ; and we have indeed 
most modern instances in the excellent " Com- 
mon-sense Series " of the novelist " Marion 
Harland," and in Mrs. Whitney's " Just How." 
Perhaps, however, it is not fancy that these 
wear the kitchen apron with a difference. 

In addition to lack of training, and to the 

9 2 4 


vague nature of the public demand, a third 
cause operated against symmetrical artistic de- 
velopment among the women of those electric 
days preceding the civil war. That struggle 
between the art instinct and the desire for re- 
form, which is not likely to cease entirely un- 
til the coming of the golden year, was then at 
its height. Both men and women were drawn 
into the maelstrom of the antislavery conflict ; 
yet to a few men the artist's single aim seemed 
still possible — to Longfellow, to Hawthorne. 
Similar examples are lacking among contem- 
porary women. Essential womanhood, " das 
Ewigweibliche" seems at this point unusually 
clear in the work of women ; the passion for 
conduct, the enthusiasm for abstract justice, 
not less than the potential motherhood that 
yearns over all suffering. The strong Hebraic 
element in the spiritual life of New England 
women in particular tended to withdraw them 
from the service of pure art at this period. 
" My natural inclinations," wrote Lydia Maria 
Child, " drew me much more strongly towards 
literature and the arts than towards reform, and 
the weight of conscience was needed to turn 
the scale." 

Mrs. Child and Miss Sedgwick, chosen fa- 
vorites of the public, stand forth as typical 
figures. Both have the art instinct, both the 
desire for reform : in Mrs. Child the latter de- 
cidedly triumphs, in spite of her romances ; in 
Miss Sedgwick the former, though less decid- 
edly, in spite of her incidental preachments. 
She wrote " without any purpose or hope to 
slay giants," aiming merely " to supply medi- 
ocre readers with small moral hints on various 
subjects that come up in daily life." It is in- 
teresting to note just what public favor meant 
materially to the most popular women writers 
of those days. Miss Sedgwick, at a time when 
she had reached high-water mark, wrote in 
reply to one who expected her to acquire a 
fortune, that she found it impossible to make 
much out of novel-writing while cheap editions 
of English novels filled the market. " I may 
go on," she says, " earning a few hundred dol- 
lars a year, and precious few too." One could 
not even earn the " precious few " without ob- 
serving certain laws of silence. The " Appeal 
in Behalf of that Class of Americans called 
Africans " seriously lessened the income of Mrs. 
Child. That dubious America of 1833 was 
decided on one point — this was not what she 
expected of the " female writer." She was will- 
ing to be instructed by a woman — about the 
polishing of furniture and the education of 

And now there arises before us another fig- 
ure, of striking singularity and power. Mar- 
garet Fuller never appeared as a candidate 
for popular favor. On the polishing of fur- 

niture she was absolutely silent; nor, though 
she professed " high respect for those who 
' cook something good,' arfd create and pre- 
serve fair order in houses," did she ever fulfil 
the understood duty of woman by publishing 
a cookery book. On the education of daugh- 
ters she had, however, a vital word to say ; 
demanding for them "a far wider and more 
generous culture." Her own education had 
been of an exceptional character; she was 
fortunate in its depth and solidity, though un- 
fortunate in the forcing process that had made 
her a hard student at six years old. Her equip- 
ment was superior to that of any American 
woman who had previously entered the field 
of literature ; and hers was a powerful genius, 
but, by the irony of fate, a genius not prompt 
to clothe itself in the written word. As to the 
inspiration of her speech all seem to agree ; 
but one who knew her well has spoken of the 
" singular embarrassment and hesitation in- 
duced by the attempt to commit her thoughts 
to paper." The reader of the sibylline leaves 
she scattered about her in her strange career 
receives the constant impression of hampered 
power, of force that has never found its proper 
outlet. In " Woman in the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury " there is certainly something of that 
" shoreless Asiatic dreaminess " complained 
of by Carlyle ; but there are also to be found 
rich words, fit, like those of Emerson, for " gold 
nails in temples to hang trophies on." The 
critical Scotchman himself subsequently owned 
that " some of her Papers are the undeniable 
utterances of a true heroic mind ; altogether 
unique, so far as I know, among the Writing 
Women of this generation ; rare enough, too, 
God knows, among the Writing Men." She 
accomplished comparatively little that can be 
shown or reckoned. Her mission was " to free, 
arouse, dilate." Those who immediately re- 
sponded were few ; and as the circle of her in- 
fluence has widened through their lives the 
source of the original impulse has been unnamed 
and forgotten. But if we are disposed to rank 
a fragmentary greatness above a narrow per- 
fection, to value loftiness of aim more than the 
complete attainment of an inferior object, we 
must set Margaret Fuller, despite all errors of 
judgment, all faults of style, very high among 
the " Writing Women " of America. It is time 
that, ceasing to discuss her personal traits, we 
dwell only upon the permanent and essential 
in her whose mind was fixed upon the perma- 
nent, the essential. Her place in our literature 
is her own ; it has not been filled, nor does it 
seem likely to be. The particular kind of force 
which she exhibited — in so far as it was not 
individual — stands a chance in our own day 
of being drawn into the educational field, now 
that the " wider and more generous culture " 


9 2 5 

which she claimed has been accorded to 

We may trace from the early publications of 
Lydia Maria Francis and Catherine Sedgwick 
the special line along which women have 
worked most successfully. It is in fiction that 
they have wrought with the greatest vigor and 
freedom, and in that important class of fiction 
which reflects faithfully the national life, broadly 
or in sectional phases. In 182 1 Miss Francis, 
a girl of nineteen, wrote "Hobomok," a rather 
crude novel of colonial Massachusetts, with an 
Indian hero. Those were the times of the 
pseudo-American school, the heyday of what 
Mr. Stedman has called "the supposititious 
Indian." To the sanguine "Hobomok" 
seemed to foreshadow a feminine Cooper, and 
its author put forth in the following year " The 
Rebels," a novel of Boston before the Revo- 
lution. A more effective worker on this line, 
however, was Miss Sedgwick, whose " New 
England Tale" — a simple little story, origi- 
nally intended as a tract — was published in 
1822, and at once drew attention, in spite of 
a certain thinness, by its recognizable home 
flavor. The plain presentation of New Eng- 
land life in " Redwood," her succeeding book, 
interests and convinces the reader of to-day. 
Some worthless elements of plot, now out of 
date, are introduced; but age cannot wither 
nor custom stale the fresh reality of the most 
memorable figure — that manly soul Miss Deb- 
orah, a character as distinct as Scott himself 
could have made her. " Hope Leslie," " Clar- 
ence," and " The Linwoods " followed ; then 
the briefer tales supplying " small moral hints," 
such as the " Poor Rich Man and Rich Poor 
Man." All are genuine, wholesome, deserving 
of the hearty welcome they received. " Wise, 
clear, and kindly," one must echo the verdict 
of Margaret Fuller on our gentle pioneer in 
native fiction ; we may look back with pride 
on her " speech moderate and sane, but never 
palsied by fear or skeptical caution " ; on her- 
self, " a fine example of the independent and 
beneficent existence that intellect and char- 
acter can give to women." The least studied 
among her pathetic scenes are admirable ; and 
she displays some healthy humor, though not 
as much as her charming letters indicate that 
she possessed. A recent writer has ranked her 
work in one respect above that of Cooper, pro- 
nouncing it more truly calculated to effect " the 
emancipation of the American mind from for- 
eign types." 

Miss Sedgwick, past threescore, was still in 
the literary harness when the woman who was 
destined to bring the novel of New England 
to a fuller development reached fame at a 
bound with " Uncle Tom's Cabin." At last 
the artist's instinct and the purpose of the re- 

former were fused, as far as they are capable 
of fusion, in a story that still holds its reader, 
whether passive or protesting, with the grip 
of the master-hand. The inborn powers of Mrs. 
Stowe were fortunately developed in a home 
atmosphere that supplied deficiencies in train- 
ing. Fate was kind in providing occasional 
stimulants for the feminine mind, though an 
adequate and regular supply was customarily 
withheld. Miss Sedgwick attributes an espe- 
cial quickening force to the valuable selections 
read aloud by her father to his family ; Miss 
Francis, as we have seen, owed much to the 
conversation of her brother. To Harriet 
Beecher was granted, outside her inspiring 
home circle, an extra stimulus in the early in- 
fluence of the enthusiastic teacher whose por- 
trait she has given us in the Jonathan Rossiter 
of " Oldtown Folks." A close knowledge of 
Scott's novels from her girlhood had its effect 
in shaping her methods of narration. She knew 
her Bible — perpetual fountain feeding the no- 
blest streams of English literature — as Rus- 
kin knew his. Residence for years near the 
Ohio border had familiarized her with some 
of the darkest aspects of slavery ; so that when 
the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law roused 
her to the task of exhibiting the system in op- 
eration, she was as fully prepared to execute 
that task as a woman of New England birth 
and traditions well could be. Since the war 
Southern writers, producing with the ease of 
intimacy works steeped in the spirit of the 
South, have taught us much concerning negro 
character and manners, and have accustomed 
us to an accurate reproduction of dialect. The 
sublimity of Uncle Tom has been tried by the 
reality of the not less lovable Uncle Remus. 
But whatever blemishes or extravagances may 
appear to a critical eye in the great antislavery 
novel, it still beats with that intense life which 
nearly forty years ago awoke a deep respon- 
sive thrill in the repressed heart of the North. 
We are at present chiefly concerned with its 
immense practical success. It was a " shot 
heard round the world." Ten thousand cop- 
ies were sold in a few days ; over three hun- 
dred thousand in a year ; eight power presses 
were kept running day and night to supply 
the continual demand. The British Museum 
now contains thirty-five complete editions in 
English, and translations exist in at least 
twenty different languages. " Never did any 
American work have such success," exclaims 
Mrs. Child, in one of her enthusiastic letters. 
" It has done much to command respect for 
the faculties of woman." The influences are, 
indeed, broad and general which have since 
that day removed all restrictions tending to 
impress inferiority on the woman writer, so that 
the distinction of sex is lost in the distinction 



of schools. Yet a special influence may be at- 
tributed to this single marked manifestation of 
force, to this imposing popular triumph. In 
the face of the fact that the one American 
book which had stormed Europe was the work 
of a woman, the old tone of patronage became 
ridiculous, the old sense of ordained and inev- 
itable weakness on the part of the " female 
writer " became obsolete. Women henceforth, 
whatever their personal feelings in regard to 
the much-discussed book, were enabled, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, to hold the pen more 
firmly, to move it more freely. In New Eng- 
land fiction what a leap from the work of Miss 
Sedgwick, worthy as it is, to that of Mrs. 
Stowe ! The field whence a few hardy growths 
were peeping seems to have been overflowed 
by a fertilizing river, so rich is its new yield. 
It is " the soul of Down East " that we find in 
" The Minister's Wooing " and " Oldtown 
Folks." Things spiritual are grasped with the 
insight of kinship, externals are drawn with 
the certainty of lifelong acquaintance. If we 
glance at the humorous side of the picture, 
surely no hand that ever wrought could have 
bettered one smile-provoking line in the fa- 
miliar figure of Sam Lawson, the village do- 
nothing. There is a free-handedness in the 
treatment of this character not often found in 
more recent conscientious studies of local types ; 
it is as a painting beside photographs. A cer- 
tain inequality, it may be admitted, appears in 
the range of Mrs. Stowe's productions. They 
form links, more or less shining, between a 
time of confused and groping effort on the part 
of women and a time of definitely directed 
aims, of a concentration that has, inevitably, 
its own drawbacks. 

The encouragement of the great maga- 
zines, from the first friendly to women writers, 
is an important factor in their development. 
"Harper's" dates from 1850; "The Atlantic 
Monthly," in 1857, opened a new outlet for 
literary work of a high grade. Here appeared 
many of the short stories of Rose Terry, de- 
picting the life of New England ; unsurpass- 
able in their fidelity to nature, their spontaneous 
flow, their grim humor, pathos, tragedy. In the 
pages of " The Atlantic," too, suddenly flashed 
into sight the brilliant exotics of Harriet Pres- 
cott, who holds among American women a 
position as singular as that of Poe among men. 
Her characters have their being in some re- 
mote, gorgeous sunset-land ; we feel that the 
Boston Common of " Azarian " is based upon 
a cloud rather than solid Yankee earth, and 
the author can scarce pluck a May flower but 
it turns at her touch to something rich and 
strange. Native flavor there is in some of her 
shorter stories, such as " The South Breaker " 
and "Knitting Sale-Socks"; but a sudden 

waft of foreign spices is sure to mingle with 
the sea- wind or the inland lilac-scents. " The 
Amber Gods " and "The Thief in the Night " 
skillfully involve the reader in a dazzling web 
of deceptive strength. 

In " Temple House," " Two Men," and 
" The Morgesons," the peculiarly powerful 
works of Mrs. Stoddard, the central figures do 
not seem necessarily of any particular time or 
country. Their local habitation, however, is 
impressively painted ; with a few swift, vigor- 
ous strokes the old coast towns spring up be- 
fore us ; the very savor of the air is imparted. 
Minor characters strongly smack of the soil ; 
old Cuth, in " Two Men," dying " silently and 
firmly, like a wolf" ; Elsa, in the same book. 
There are scenes of a superb fierce power — 
that of the wreck in " Temple House," for 
instance. The curt and repressed style, the 
ironic humor of Mrs. Stoddard, serve to grap- 
ple her work to the memory as with hooks of 
steel ; it is as remote as possible from the con- 
ventional notion of woman's writing. 
• The old conflict between the reformer's 
passion and the art instinct is renewed in the 
novels and stories of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 
who possesses the artist's responsiveness in a 
high degree, with but little of the artist's re- 
straint. Exquisitely sensitive to the significant 
beauty of the world, she is no less sensitive to 
the appeal of human pain. In " Hedged In " 
and " The Silent Partner," in her stories of the 
squalid tenement and the storm-beaten coast, 
her literary work reflects, point for point, her 
personal work for the fallen, the toiling, and 
the tempted. Her passionate sympathy gives 
her a power of thrilling, of commanding the 
tribute of tears, which is all her own. An en- 
thusiast for womanhood, she has given us in 
" The Story of Avis " and " Dr. Zay " striking 
studies of complementary themes ; " Avis," 
despite certain flaws of style to which objection 
is trite, remaining the greater,^is it is the sadder, 
book. All Miss Phelps's stories strike root into 
New England, though it is not precisely Mrs. 
Cooke's New England of iron farmers and 
stony farms ; and none strikes deeper root than 
" Avis," a natural product of the intellectual 
region whence " Woman in the Nineteenth 
Century " sprang thirty years before. No 
other woman, among writers who have arisen 
since the war, has received in such fullness the 
spiritual inheritance of New England's past. 

The changes brought about by the influx of 
foreigners into the factory towns of the East 
are reflected in the pages of Miss Phelps, par- 
ticularly in " The Silent Partner." A recent 
worker of the same vein is Lillie Chace Wy- 
man, whose short stories, collected under the 
symbolic title " Poverty Grass," are marked 
by sincerity and simple power. Sarah Orne 



Jewett roams the old pastures, gathering many 
pungent handfuls of the familiar flowers and 
herbs that retain for us their homely precious- 
ness. She is attracted also by the life of the coast. 
Without vigorous movement, her sketches and 
stories have always an individual, delicate pic- 
turesqueness, the quality of a small, clear water- 
color. " A Country Doctor " is to be noted for 
its very quiet and true presentation of a sym- 
metrical womanhood, naturally drawn towards 
the large helpfulness of professional life. 

A novel which has lately aroused much dis- 
cussion, the " John Ward, Preacher," of Mar- 
garet Deland, is, although its scene is laid in 
Pennsylvania, a legitimate growth of New Eng- 
land in its problem and its central character. 
The orthodox idea of eternal future punish- 
ment receives a treatment somewhat similar 
to that applied by Miss Phelps in " The Gates 
Ajar " to the conventional heaven. The hero 
seems a revisitant Thomas Shepard, or other 
stern yet tender Puritan of the past, miracu- 
lously set down in a modern environment. 
The incisiveness of portions of " John Ward," 
as well as the grace of its side scenes, gives 
promise of still more valuable coming con- 
tributions to American fiction by the poet 
of the charming " Old Garden." A yet later 
New England production is the book of stories 
by Mary E. Wilkins, " A Humble Romance," 
a work brimful of vigor and human nature. 

We need not now enter into the circum- 
stances tending to the misdirection of intel- 
lectual effort which so affected the work of 
Southern women in literature that for some 
time they produced little of enduring value. 
These causes have been of late fully set forth 
by a writer of the new South, Thomas Nelson 
Page, who in naming the women of Southern 
birth or residence most prominent as novelists 
before the civil war places Mrs. Terhune in 
a class by herself. " Like the others, she has 
used the Southern life as material, but has ex- 
hibited a literary sense of far higher order, and 
an artistic touch." Mrs. Rebecca Harding 
Davis, a native of West Virginia, has chosen a 
Pennsylvanian background for some of her best 
work; producing, perhaps, nothing stronger 
than " Life in the Iron Mills," published long 
since in " The Atlantic " — a story distantly 
akin to those of Miss Phelps and the author of 
" Poverty Grass." The hopeless heart-hunger 
of the poor has seldom been so passionately 
pictured. A distinguishing characteristic of the 
work of Mrs. Davis is her Browning-like in- 
sistence on the rare test-moments of life. If, 
as in the complicated war-time novel " Wait- 
ing for the Verdict," — a work of high inten- 
tion, — the characters come out startlingly well 
in the sudden lights flashed upon them, the 
writer's idealism is tonic and uplifting. 

It was a woman of the North who pic- 
tured, in a series of brief tales and sketches 
full of insight, the desolate South at the close 
of the civil war — Constance Fenimore Wool- 
son, the most broadly national of our women 
novelists. Her feeling for local color is quick 
and true ; and though she has especially identi- 
fied herself with the Lake country and with 
Florida, one is left with the impression that 
her assimilative powers would enable her to 
reproduce as successfully the traits of any 
other quarter of the Union. Few American 
writers of fiction have given evidence of such 
breadth, so full a sense of the possibilities of 
the varied and complex life of our wide land. 
Robust, capable, mature — these seem fitting 
words to apply to the author of " Anne," of 
" East Angels," of the excellent short stories 
in " Rodman the Keeper." Women have reason 
for pride in a representative novelist whose 
genius is trained and controlled, without being 
tamed or dispirited. 

Similar surefootedness and mastery of means 
are displayed by Mary Hallock Foote in her 
picturesque Western stories, such as " The 
Led-Horse Claim : a Romance of a Mining 
Camp," and " John Bodewin's Testimony " — 
in which a certain gracefulness takes the place 
of the fuller warmth of Miss Woolson. One 
is apt to name the two writers together, since 
they represent the most supple and practiced 
talent just now exercised by women in the 
department of fiction. 

Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, English by 
birth and education, and influenced by the 
Dickens tradition, though reflecting the tone 
of her environment wherever fate may lead 
her, touches American literature chiefly on the 
Southern side, through " Louisiana " and " Es- 
meralda." Despite the ambitious character of 
her novel of Washington society, " Through 
One Administration," her most durable work 
is either thoroughly English or belongs to the 
international school. This particular branch 
of fiction we cannot now pause to note, though 
conscious that such books as the beautiful 
" Guenn " of Blanche Willis Howard have 
their own distinct value. 

A truly native flower, though gathered in 
a field so unfamiliar as to wear a seemingly 
foreign charm, is Mrs. Jackson's poetic " Ra- 
mona." A book instinct with passionate pur- 
pose, intensely alive and involving the reader 
in its movement, it yet contains an idyl of 
singular loveliness, the perfection of which lends 
the force of contrast to the pathetic close. A 
novel of reform, into which a great and gen- 
erous soul poured its gathered strength, it none 
the. less possesses artistic distinction. Some- 
thing is, of course, due to the charm of at- 
mosphere, the beauty of the background against 



which the plot naturally placed itself; more, to 
the trained hand, the pen pliant with long and 
free exercise ; most, to the poet-heart. " Ra- 
mona " stands as the most finished, though not 
the most striking, example that what American 
women have done notably in literature they 
have done nobly. 

The magazine-reading world has hardly 
recovered yet from its shock of surprise on 
discovering the author of " In the Tennessee 
Mountains," a book of short stories projecting 
the lines on which the writer has since ad- 
vanced in "The Prophet of the Great Smoky 
Mountains" and " The Despot of Broomsedge 
Cove." Why did Miss Murfree prefer to begin 
her literary career under the masculine name of 
" Charles Egbert Craddock " ? Probably for 
the same reason as George Sand, George El- 
iot, Currer Bell ; a reason stated by a stanch 
advocate of women, in words that form a con- 
venient answer to the common sneer, " Not 
because they wished to be men, but because 
they wished for an unbiased judgment as art- 
ists." The world has grown so much more 
enlightened on this point that the biased critic 
is now the exception, and the biased editor is 
a myth. The precaution of disguise cannot 
much longer remain a necessity, if, indeed, it 
was necessary in the case of Miss Murfree. 

From whatever cause adopted, the mask 
was a completely deceptive one. Mr. Crad- 
dock's vivid portrayal of life among the Ten- 
nessee mountains was fairly discussed and 
welcomed as a valuable and characteristic con- 
tribution from the South ; and nobody hinted 
then that the subtle poetic element and the 
tendency to subordinate human interest to 
scenery were indications of the writer's sex. 
The few cherishers of the fading superstition 
that women are without humor laughed heart- 
ily and unsuspiciously over the droll situations, 
the quaint sayings of the mountaineers. Once 
more the rednciio ad absurdum has been ap- 
plied to the notion of ordained, invariable, and 
discernible difference between the literary work 
of men and that of women. The method cer- 
tainly defers to dullness; but it also affords food 
for amusement to the ironically inclined. 

This review, cursory and incomplete as it 
is, of the chief accomplishment of American 
women in native fiction, serves to bring out 
the fact that they have during the last forty 
years supplied to our literature an element of 
great and genuine value ; and that while their 
productions have of course varied in power 
and richness, they have steadily gained in art. 
How wide the gap between " Hobomok" and 
" Ramona " ! During the latter half of the 
period the product gives no general evidence 
of limitation : and the writers would certainly 
be placed, except for the purposes of this arti- 

cle, among their brother authors, in classes 
determined by method, local background, or 
any other basis of arrangement which is artis- 
tic rather than personal. In exceptional cases 
a reviewer perhaps exclaims upon certain faults 
as "womanish"; but the cry is too hasty ; the 
faults are those of individuals, in either sex. 
It is possible to match them from the work of 
men, and to adduce examples of women's 
work entirely free from them. Colonel Hig- 
ginson has pointed out that the ivory miniature 
method in favor with some of our masculine 
artists is that of Jane Austen. Wherein do 
Miss Sprague's " Earnest Trifler " or " The 
Daughter of Henry Sage Rittenhouse " display 
more salient indications of sex than works of 
similar scope by Mr. Hemy James ? 

"The almost entire disappearance of the 
distinctively woman's novel " — that is, the 
novel designed expressly for feminine readers, 
such as "The Wide, Wide World " and " The 
Lamplighter " — has lately been commented 
upon. It is to be observed that this species— 
chiefly produced in the past by women, as the 
Warner sisters, Maria S. Cummins, Elizabeth 
Payson Prentiss, the excellent Miss Mcintosh 
— has become nearly extinct at the very time 
when women are supplying a larger proportion 
of fiction than ever before ; and, further, that 
the comparatively few " domestic semi-pious" 
novels, very popular in late years, have been 
of masculine production. The original and sug- 
gestive, though perhaps at times over-subtle, 
work of Mrs. Whitney, thoroughly impreg- 
nated with the New England spirit, and 
portraying with insight various phases of 
girlhood, takes another rank. Whatever may 
be concluded from the decadence of fiction, 
written of women, for women, by women, it is 
certainly probable that women will remain, as 
a rule, the best writers for girls. In connection 
with this subject must be mentioned the widely 
known and appreciated stories of Louisa M. 
Alcott, "Little Women" and its successors, 
which "have not only been reprinted and largely 
sold in England, but also translated into sev- 
eral foreign languages, and thus published with 
persistent success." We are told that when 
"Little Men" was issued "its publication was 
delayed until the publishers were prepared to 
fill advance orders for fifty thousand copies." 

A like popularity is to be noted of the spir- 
ited and artistic " Hans Brinker; or, the Silver 
Skates," of Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge, which 
" has had a very large circulation in America ; 
has passed through several editions in Eng- 
land; and has been published in French at 
Paris, in German at Leipsic, in Russian at St. 
Petersburg, and in Italian at Rome. . . . The 
crowning tribute to its excellence is its peren- 
nial sale in Holland in a Dutch edition." No 



name in our juvenile literature so " brings a 
perfume in the mention " as that of Mrs. Dodge, 
who for years has been as " the very pulse of 
the machine " in the making of that magazine 
for children, which is not only an ever new de- 
light, but a genuine educational power. 

In poetry the abundant work of women 
during the last half-century shows a develop- 
ment corresponding to that traced in the field 
of fiction. As the flood of sentimentalism 
slowly receded hopeful signs began to appear 
— the rather vague tints of a bow of poetical 
promise. The varying verse of Mrs. Oakes 
Smith, Mrs. Kinney, Elizabeth Lloyd Howell, 
and Harriet Winslow Sewall represents, in 
different degrees, a general advance. The " lit- 
tle vagrant pen " of Frances Sargent Osgood, 
as she confessed, " wandered lightly down the 
paper," but its fanciful turns had now and 
then a swift, capricious grace. The poems of 
Sarah Helen Whitman, belonging to the land- 
scape school of Bryant, are of marked value, 
as are also the deeply earnest productions of 
Mrs. Anna Lynch Botta, which display a new 
distinctness of motive, possibly attributable to 
the influence of Longfellow. The same in- 
fluence is felt in some of the early work of 
Alice Gary, whose individual strain of mel- 
ancholy melody clings to remembrance, its 
charm stubbornly outliving our critical recog- 
nition of defects due, in great measure, to over- 
production. Emily Judson sometimes touched 
finely the familiar chords, as in the well-known 
poem of motherhood, " My Bird." The ten- 
der " Morning Glory " of Maria White Lowell, 
whose poems are characterized by a delicate 
and childlike simplicity, will be remembered. 

In 1873 a critic, not generally deemed too 
favorable to growths of the present day, re- 
corded the opinion that there was " more force 
and originality — in other words, more gen- 
ius — in the living female poets of America 
than in all their predecessors, from Mistress 
Anne Bradstreet down. At any rate there is a 
wider range of thought in their verse, and in- 
finitely more art." For the change first noted 
by Mr. Stoddard there is no accounting ; the 
tides of genius are incalculable. The other 
gains, like those in fiction, are to be accounted 
for partly by the law of evolution working 
through our whole literature, by the influence 
of sounder models and of a truer criticism, 
and by the winnowing processes of the maga- 
zines ; partly, also, by the altered position and 
improved education of women in general — 
not necessarily of the individual, since change 
in the atmosphere may have important re- 
sults in cases where other conditions remain 

The poems of Mrs. Howe express true wom- 
Vol. XL.— 122. 

anly aspiration, and a high scorn of unworthi- 
ness, but their strongest characteristic is the 
fervent patriotism which breathes through the 
famous " Battle Hymn of the Republic." The 
clear, hopeful " orchard notes " of Lucy Lar- 
com, — it is impossible to refrain from quoting 
Mr. Stedman's perfect phrase, — first heard long 
since, have grown more mellow with advan- 
cing years. 

The dramatic lyric took new force and nat- 
uralness in the hands of Rose Terry Cooke, 
and turned fiery in those of Mrs. Stoddard, 
whose contemplative poems also have an emi- 
nent sad dignity of style. The fine-spun sub- 
jective verse of Mrs. Piatt flashes at times with 
felicities, as a web with dewdrops. Many 
names appear upon the honorable roll : Mrs. 
Fields, Mrs. SpofTord, — whose rich nature re- 
veals itself in verse as in the novel, — Mrs. Mar- 
garet J. Preston, Mrs. Mary Ashley Townsend; 
Elizabeth Akers Allen, Julia C. R. Dorr, Mrs. 
Stowe, Mrs. Whitney, Mrs. Dodge, Mrs. Moul- 
ton ; Mrs. Thaxter, — the sea's true lover, who 
has devoted herself to the faithful expression 
of a single phase of natural beauty, — Mrs. Mary 
E. Bradley, Kate Putnam Osgood, Nora Perry, 
Mary N. Prescott, and Harriet McEwen 
Kimball ; Mary Clemmer Hudson, Margaret 
E. Sangster, Miss Bushnell, " Susan Coolidge," 
" Howard Glyndon," " Stuart Sterne," Char- 
lotte Fiske Bates, May Riley Smith, Ella 
Dietz, Mary Ainge de Vere, Edna Dean 
Proctor, the Goodale sisters, Miss Coolbrith, 
Miss Shinn, " Owen Innsly," Elizabeth Stuart 
Phelps, and Alice Wellington Rollins. There 
is a kind of white fire in the best of the subtle 
verses of " H. H." — a diamond light, en- 
hanced by careful cutting. Generally imper- 
sonal, the author's individuality yet lives in 
them to an unusual degree. We may recognize 
also in the Jewish poems of Emma Lazarus, 
especially in " By the Waters of Babylon," and 
the powerful fourteenth-century tragedy, " The 
Dance to Death," " the precious life-blood of 
a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up 
on purpose to a life beyond life." The poems 
of Edith M. Thomas, with their exquisite work- 
manship, mark the high attainment of woman 
in the mastery of poetic form, and exhale some 
breath of that fragrance which clings to the 
work of the young Keats, Miss Hutchinson's 
" Songs and Lyrics " have also rare quality. 
The graceful verse of Mrs. Deland has been 
quick to win the ear of the public. Louise 
Imogen Guiney, sometimes straining the voice, 
has nevertheless contributed to the general 
chorus notes of unusual fullness and strength. 

In other branches of literature, to which 
comparatively few women have chosen to de- 
vote themselves, an increasing thoroughness 
is apparent, a growing tendency to specialism. 



The irresponsible feminine free lance, with her 
gay dash at all subjects, and her alliterative 
pen name dancing in every melee like a bril- 
liant pennon, has gone over into the more 
appropriate field of journalism. The calmly 
adequate literary matron of all work is an ad- 
mirable type of the past, no longer developed 
by the new conditions. The articles of the late 
Lucy M. Mitchell on sculpture, and of Mrs. 
Schuyler van Rensselaer on art and architect- 
ure; the historical work of Martha J. Lamb and 
of the lamented Mary L. Booth, the latter 
also an indefatigable translator ; the studies of 
Helen Campbell in social science ; the transla- 
tions of Harriet Waters Preston — these few 
examples are typical of the determination and 
concentration of woman's work at the present 
day. We notice in each new issue of a maga- 
zine the well-known specialists. Miss Thomas 
has given herself to the interpretation of nature, 
in prose as in verse ; " Olive Thome " Miller 
to the loving study of bird life. Mrs. Jackson, 
the most versatile of later writers, possessed 
the rare combination of versatility and thor- 
oughness in such measure that we might almost 
copy Hartley Coleridge's saying of Harriet 
Martineau, and call her a specialist about 
everything; but her name will be associated 
with the earnest presentation of the wrongs of 
the Indian, as that of Emma Lazarus with the 
impassioned defense of the rights of the Jew. 
The just and genial Colonel Higginson ex- 
presses disappointment that woman's advance 
in literature has not been more marked since 
the establishment of the women's colleges. 
" It is," he says, " considerable and substan- 
tial ; yet in view of the completeness with 
which literary work is now thrown open to 
women, and their equality as to pay, there is 
room for some surprise that it is not greater." 

The proper fruit of the women's colleges in 
literature has, in fact, not yet ripened. It may 
at first seem strangely delayed, yet reflection 
suggests the reasons. An unavoidable self- 
consciousness hampers the first workers under 
a new dispensation. It might appear at a 
casual glance that those released from the 
burden of a retarding tradition were ready at 
once for the race, but the weight has only 
been exchanged for the lighter burden of the 
unfamiliar. College-bred women of the highest 
type have accepted, with grave conscientious- 
ness, new social responsibilities as the con- 
comitant of their new opportunities. 

Pealing, the clock of Time 
Has struck the Woman's hour ; 
We hear it on our knees, 

wrote Miss Phelps for the graduates of Smith 
College ten years ago. That the summons has 
indeed been reverently heard and faithfully 
obeyed, those who have followed the work of 
the Association of Collegiate Alumnae can tes- 
tify. The deed, and not the word, engages 
the energy of the college woman of to-day; 
but as these institutions grow into the life of 
our land that life will be everywhere enriched, 
and the word must follow in happy time. In- 
dividual genius for literature is sure, sooner or 
later, to appear within the constantly widening 
circle of those fairly equipped for its exercise. 
It would be idle to expect that the cases in 
which native power and an adequate prepara- 
tion go hand in hand will be frequent, since 
they are infrequent among men. The desirable 
thing was, that this rare development should 
be made a possibility among women. It is pos- 
sible to-day ; some golden morrow will make it 
a reality. 

Helen Gray Cone. 


ON a wild morning, at a highway's bend, Since then, when wit of his doth make a feast, 

Three arrows pierced him through. His strength a shelter, know 

They meant no hurt ; they only left my friend His footsteps sound about ; and yet he ceased, 

No more to dream or do. How softly, years ago ! 

By what fierce wrong this came — what law 
or luck, 

Ask not; his annals all 
In the sharp summary: the arrotvs struck! 

Arise, converge, and fall. 

Faith broke, adventure's wing was overwrought, 

Desire's bright spring decayed ; 
Upon the curious eye that long had sought 

Too much of sight was laid. 

He is secure. A history wraps him close 

To no skilled guess attuned : 
Still smiling, still uncatalogued, he goes 

With his immortal wound. 

Oft as you meet my gracious fugitive, 

Salute him, from your strife : 
To you the victory, men who work and live, 

Peace to that ended life ! 

Louise Imogen Guiney. 


IT was past noon of the first day of 
jfv the bloody contest in the Wil- 
tjgi derness. The guns of the 

gr £^tf Fifth Corps, led by Battery 
^Pfi£2| D of the i st New York 
-JttBSIyI Artillery, were halted along 
3||p^S&\ the Orange turnpike, by 
which we had made the 
fruitless campaign to Mine 
Run. The continuous roar 
of musketry in front and to 
the left indicated that the infantry was des- 
perately engaged, while the great guns filling 
every wooded road leading up to the battle- 
field were silent. Our drivers were lounging 
about the horses, while the cannoneers lay 
on the green grass by the roadside or walked by 
the pieces. Down the line came an order for the 
center section, under my command, to advance 
and pass the right section, which lay in front 
of us. General Warren, surrounded by his staff, 
sat on a gray horse at the right of the road 
where the woods bordered an open field dip- 
ping between two wooded ridges. The posi- 
tion we were leaving was admirable, while the 
one to which we were ordered, on the oppo- 
site side of the narrow field, was wholly imprac- 
ticable. The captain had received his orders in 
person from General Warren, and joined my 
command as we passed. 

We dashed down the road at a trot, the can- 
noneers running beside their pieces. At the 
center of the field we crossed by a wooden 
bridge over a deep, dry ditch, and came rap- 
idly into position at the side of the turnpike 
and facing the thicket. As the cannoneers 
were not all up, the captain and I dismounted 
and lent a hand in swinging round the heavy 
trails. The air was full of minie-balls, some 
whistling by. like mad hornets, and others, 
partly spent, humming like big nails. One of 
the latter struck my knee with force enough 
to wound to the bone without penetrating the 
grained-leather boot-leg. In front of us the 
ground rose into the timber where our infantry 
was engaged. It was madness to continue 
firing here, for my shot must first plow through 
our own lines before reaching the enemy. So 
after one discharge the captain ordered the 
limbers to the rear, and the section started 
back at a gallop. My horse was cut on the 

flanks, and his plunging, with my disabled 
knee, delayed me in mounting, and prevented 
my seeing why the carriages kept to the grass 
instead of getting upon the roadway. When 
I overtook the guns they had come to a forced 
halt at the dry ditch, now full of skulkers, an 
angle of which cut the way to the bridge. 
Brief as the interval had been, not a man of 
my command was in sight. The lead horse 
of the gun team at my side had been shot 
and was reeling in the harness. Slipping to the 
ground, I untoggled one trace at the collar to 
release him, and had placed my hand on the 
other when I heard the demand " Surrender ! " 
and turning found in my face two big pistols 
in the hands of an Alabama colonel. " Give 
me that sword," said he. I pressed the clasp 
and let it fall to the ground, where it remained. 
The colonel had taken me by the right arm, 
and as we turned towards the road I took in 
the whole situation at a glance. My chestnut 
horse and the captain's bald-faced brown were 
dashing frantically against the long, swaying 
gun teams. By the bridge stood a company 
of the 6 1 st Alabama Infantry in butternut 
suits and slouch hats, shooting straggling and 
wounded Zouaves from a Pennsylvania brigade 
as they appeared in groups of two or three 
on the road in front. The colonel as he handed 
me over to his men ordered his troops to 
take what prisoners they could and to cease 
firing. The guns which we were forced to 
abandon were a bone of contention until they 
were secured by the enemy on the third day, 
at which time but one of the twenty-four team 
horses was living. 

With a few other prisoners I was led by a 
short detour through the woods. In ten min- 
utes we had turned the flank of both armies and 
reached the same turnpike in the rear of our 
enemy. A line of ambulances was moving 
back on the road, all filled with wounded, and 
when we saw a vacant seat beside a driver I 
was hoisted up to the place. The boy driver 
was in a high state of excitement. He said 
that two shells had come flying down this same 
road and showed where the trace of the near 
mule had been cut by a piece of shell, for which 
I was directly responsible. 

The field hospital of General Jubal Early's 
corps was near Locust Grove Tavern, where 


93 2 


the wounded Yankees were in charge of Sur- 
geon Donnelly of the Pennsylvania Reserves. 
No guard was established, as no one was 
supposed to be in condition to run away. 
At the end of a week, however, my leg had 
greatly improved, although I was still un- 
able to use it. In our party was another lieu- 
tenant, an aide on the start of General James 
C. Rice, whose horse had been shot under 
him while riding at full speed with despatches. 
Lieutenant Hadley had returned to conscious- 
ness to find himself a prisoner in hospital, some- 
what bruised, and robbed of his valuables, but 
not otherwise disabled. We two concluded to 
start for Washington by way of Kelly's Ford. 
I traded my penknife for a haversack of corn- 
bread with one of the Confederate nurses, 
and a wounded officer, Colonel Miller of a 
New York regiment, gave us a pocket com- 
pass. I provided myself with a stout pole, 
which I used with both hands in lieu of my 
left foot. At 9 p. m. we set out, passing dur- 
ing the night the narrow field and the dry ditch 
where I had left my guns. Only a pile of dead 
horses marked the spot. 

On a grassy bank we captured a firefly and 
shut him in between the glass and the face of 
our pocket compass. With such a guide we 
shaped our course for the Rapidan. After 
traveling nearly all night we lay down exhausted 
upon a bluff within sound of the river and slept 
until sunrise. Hastening to our feet again, we 
hurried down to the ford. Just before reach- 
ing the river we heard shouts behind us and 
saw a man beckoning and running after us. 
Believing the man an enemy, we dashed into 
the shallow water, and after crossing safely 
hobbled away up the other side as fast as a 
man with one leg and a pole could travel. I 
afterwards met this man, himself a prisoner, 
at Macon, Georgia. He was the officer of our 
pickets, and would have conducted us into 
our lines if we had permitted him to come up 
with us. As it was, we found a snug hiding- 
place in a thicket of swamp growth, where we 
lay in concealment all day. After struggling 
on a few miles in a chilling rain my leg became 
so painful that it was impossible to go farther. 
A house was near by, and we threw ourselves 
on the mercy of the family. Good Mrs. Brandon 
had harbored the pickets of both armies again 
and again, and had luxuriated in real coffee 
and tea and priceless salt at the hands of our 
officers. She bore the Yankees only good- will, 
and after dressing my wound we sat down 
to breakfast with herself and her daughters. 

After breakfast we were conducted to the 
second half-story, which was one unfinished 
room. There was a bed in one corner where 
we were to sleep. Beyond the stairs was a pile 
of yellow ears of corn, and from the rafters 

and sills hung a variety of dried herbs and 
medicinal roots. Here our meals were served, 
and the girls brought us books and read aloud 
to pass away the long days. I was confined 
to the bed, and my companion never ventured 
below stairs except on one dark night, when 
at my earnest entreaty he set out for Kelly's 
Ford, but soon returned, unable to make his 
way in the darkness. One day we heard the 
door open at the foot of the stairs, a tread of 
heavy boots on the steps, and the clank, clank 
of something that sounded very much like a 
saber. Out of the floor rose a gray slouch hat 
with the yellow cord and tassel of a cavalry- 
man, and in another moment there stood on 
the landing one of the most astonished troop- 
ers that ever was seen. " Coot " Brandon was 
one of " Jeb " Stuart's rangers, and came every 
day for corn for his horse. Heretofore the corn 
had been brought down for him, and he was 
as ignorant of our presence as we were of his 
existence. On this day no pretext could keep 
him from coming up to help himself. His 
mother worked on his sympathies, and he de- 
parted promising her that he would leave us 
undisturbed. But the very next morning he 
turned up again, this time accompanied by 
another ranger of sterner mold. A parole was 
exacted from my able-bodied companion and 
we were left for another twenty-four hours, 
when I was considered in condition to be 
moved. Mrs. Brandon gave us each a new 
blue overcoat from a plentiful store of Uncle 
Sam's clothing she had on hand, and I opened 
my heart and gave her my last twenty-dollar 
greenback — and wished I had it back again 
every day for the next ten months. 

I was mounted on a horse, and with Lieu- 
tenant Hadley on foot we were marched under 
guard all day until we arrived at a field hos- 
pital established in the rear of Longstreet's 
corps, my companion being sent on to some 
prison for officers. Thence I was forwarded 
with a train-load of wounded to Lynchburg, on 
which General Hunter was then marching, and 
we had good reason to hope for a speedy de- 
liverance. On more than one day we heard his 
guns to the north, where there was no force 
but a few citizens with bird guns to oppose the 
entrance of his command. The slaves were 
employed on a line of breastworks which there 
was no adequate force to hold. It was our 
opinion that one well-disciplined regiment 
could have captured and held the town. It 
was several days before a portion of General 
Breckinridge's command arrived for the de- 
fense of Lynchburg. 

I had clung to my clean bed in the hospital 
just as long as my rapidly healing wound 
would permit, but was soon transferred to a 
prison where at night the sleepers — Yankees, 



Confederate deserters, and negroes — were so 
crowded upon the floor that some lay under 
the feet of the guards in the doorways. The 
atmosphere was dreadful. I fell ill, and for 
three days lay with my head in the fireplace, 
more dead than alive. 

A few days thereafter about three hundred 
prisoners were crowded into cattle cars bound 
for Andersonville. We must have been a week 
on this railroad journey when an Irish lieu- 
tenant of a Rochester regiment and I, who 
had been allowed to ride in the baggage 
car, were taken from the train at Macon, 
Georgia, where about sixteen hundred Union 
officers were confined at the Fair- Grounds. 
General Alexander Shaler, of Sedgwick's corps, 
also captured at the Wilderness, was the rank- 
ing officer, and to him was accorded a sort of 
interior command of the camp. Before pass- 
ing through the gate we expected to see a 
crowd bearing some outward semblance of 
respectability. Instead, we were instantly sur- 
rounded by several hundred ragged, bare- 
footed, frowzy-headed men shouting "Fresh 
fish ! " at the top of their voices and eagerly ask- 
ing for news. With rare exceptions all were 
shabbily dressed. There was, however, a little 
knot of naval officers, who had been captured in 
the windings of the narrow Rappahannock by a 
force of cavalry, and who were the aristocrats of 
the camp. They were housed in a substantial 
fair-building in the center of the grounds, and 
by some special terms of surrender must have 
brought their complete wardrobes along. On 
hot days they appeared in spotless white duck, 
which they were permitted to send outside to 
be laundered. Their mess was abundantly sup- 
plied with the fruits and vegetables of the 
season. The ripe red tomatoes they were 
daily seen to peel were the envy of the camp. 
I well remember that to me, at this time, a 
favorite occupation was to lie on my back with 
closed eyes and imagine the dinner I would 
order if I were in a first-class hotel. It was no 
unusual thing to see a dignified colonel wash- 
ing his lower clothes in a pail, clad only in his 
uniform dress-coat. Ladies sometimes ap- 
peared on the guard-walk outside the top of 
the stockade, on which occasions the cleanest 
and best-dressed men turned out to see and be 
seen. I was quite proud to appear in a clean 
gray shirt, spotless white drawers, and mocca- 
sins made of blue overcoat cloth. 

On the Fourth of July, after the regular 
morning count, we repaired to the big central 
building and held an informal celebration. 
One officer had brought into captivity, con- 
cealed on his person, a little silk national flag, 
which was carried up into the cross-beams of 
the building, and the sight of it created the 
wildest enthusiasm. We cheered the flag and 

applauded the patriotic speeches until a de- 
tachment of the guard succeeded in putting 
a stop to our proceedings. They tried to cap- 
ture the flag, but in this they were not success- 
ful. We were informed that cannon were 
planted commanding the camp, and would be 
opened on us if we renewed our demonstra- 

Soon after this episode the fall of Atlanta 
and the subsequent movements of General 
Sherman led to the breaking up of the camp 
at Macon, and to the transfer of half of us to 
a camp at Charleston and half to Savannah. 
Late in September, by another transfer, we 
found ourselves together again at Columbia. 
We had no form of shelter, and there was no 
stockade around the camp, only a guard and 
a dead-line. During two hours of each morn- 
ing an extra line of guards was stationed 
around an adjoining piece of pine woods, into 
which we were allowed to go and cut wood 
and timber to construct for ourselves huts for 
the approaching winter. Our ration at this 
time consisted of raw corn-meal and sorghum 
molasses, without salt or any provision of uten- 
sils for cooking. The camp took its name from 
our principal article of diet, and was by com- 
mon consent known as " Camp Sorghum." A 
stream of clear water was accessible during 
the day by an extension of the guards, but at 
night the lines were so contracted as to leave 
the path leading to the water outside the guard. 
Lieutenant S. H. M. Byers, who had already 
written the well-known lyric " Sherman's 
March to the Sea," was sharing my tent, which 
consisted of a ragged blanket. We had been 
in the new camp but little more than a week 
when we determined to make an attempt at 
escape. Preparatory to starting we concealed 
two tin cups and two blankets in the pine 
woods to which we had access during the chop- 
ping hours, and here was to be our rendezvous in 
case we were separated in getting out. Cover- 
ing my shoulders with an old gray blanket and 
providing myself with a stick from the wood- 
pile about the size of a gun, I tried to smuggle 
myself into the relief guard when the line was 
contracted at six o'clock. Unfortunately an 
unexpected halt was called, and the soldier in 
front turned and discovered me. I was now 
more than ever determined on getting away. 
After a hurried conference with Lieutenant 
Byers, at which I promised to wait at our ren- 
dezvous in the woods until I heard the posting 
of the ten o'clock relief, I proceeded alone up 
the side of the camp to a point where a group 
of low cedars grew close to the dead-line. 
Concealing myself in their dark shadow, I could 
observe at my leisure the movements of the 
sentinels. A full moon was just rising above 
the horizon to my left, and in the soft, misty 



light the guards were plainly visible for a long 
distance either way. An open field from which 
the small growth had been recently cut away 
lay beyond, and between the camp and the 
guard-line ran a broad road of soft sand — 
noiseless to cross, but so white in the moon- 
light that a leaf blown across it by the wind 
could scarcely escape a vigilant eye. The 
guards were bundled in their overcoats, and I 
soon observed that the two who met opposite 
to my place of concealment turned and 
walked their short beats without looking back. 
Waiting until they separated again, and re- 
gardless of the fact that I might with equal 
likelihood be seen by a dozen sentinels in either 
direction, I ran quickly across the soft sand 
road several yards into the open field, and 
threw myself down upon the uneven ground. 
First I dragged my body on my elbows for 
a few yards, then I crept on my knees, and 
so gradually gained in distance until I could 
rise to a standing position and get safely to 
the shelter of the trees. With some difficulty 
I found the cups and blankets we had con- 
cealed, and lay down to await the arrival of 
my companion. Soon I heard several shots 
which I understood too well ; and, as I after- 
wards learned, two officers were shot dead 
for attempting the feat I had accomplished, 
and perhaps in emulation of my success. A 
third young officer, whom I knew, was also 
killed in camp by one of the shots fired at the 

At ten o'clock I set out alone and made my 
way across the fields to the bank of the Saluda, 
where a covered bridge crossed to Columbia. 
Hiding when it was light, wandering through 
fields and swamps by night, and venturing at 
last to seek food of negroes, I proceeded for 
thirteen days towards the sea. 

In general I had followed the Columbia 
turnpike ; at a quaint little chapel on the shore 
of Goose Creek, but a few miles out of Charles- 
ton, I turned to the north and bent my course 
for the coast above the city. About this time 
I learned that I should find no boats along 
the shore between Charleston and the mouth 
of the Santee, everything able to float having 
been destroyed to prevent the escape of the 
negroes and the desertion of the soldiers. I 
was ferried over the Broad River by a crusty 
old darky who came paddling across in re- 
sponse to my cries of " O-v-e-r," and who 
seemed so put out because I had no fare for 
him that I gave him my case-knife. The next 
evening I had the only taste of meat of this 
thirteen days' journey, which I got from an 
old negro whom I found alone in his cabin 
eating possum and rice. 

1 had never seen the open sea-coast beaten 
by the surf, and after being satisfied that I 

had no hope of escape in that direction it was 
in part my curiosity that led me on, and partly 
a vague idea that I would get Confederate 
transportation back to Columbia and take a 
fresh start westward bound. The tide was 
out, and in a little cove I found an abun- 
dance of oysters bedded in the mud, some of 
which I cracked with stones and ate. After satis- 
fying my hunger, and finding the sea rather un- 
expectedly tame inside the line of islands which 
marked the eastern horizon, I bent my steps 
towards a fire, where I found a detachment of 
Confederate coast-guards, to whom I offered 
myself as a guest as coolly as if my whole 
toilsome journey had been prosecuted to that 

In the morning I was inarched a few miles 
to Mount Pleasant, near Fort Moultrie, and 
taken thence in a sail-boat across the harbor 
to Charleston. At night I found myself again 
in the city jail, where with a large party of 
officers I had spent most of the month of 
August. My cell-mate was Lieutenant H. G. 
Dorr of the 4th Massachusetts Cavalry, with 
whom I journeyed by rail back to Columbia, 
arriving at "Camp Sorghum" about the 1st 
of November. 

I rejoined the mess of Lieutenant Byers and 
introduced to the others Lieutenant Dorr, 
whose cool assurance was a prize that pro- 
cured us all the blessings possible. He could 
borrow frying-pans from the guards, money 
from his brother Masons at headquarters, and 
I believe if we had asked him to secure us a 
gun he would have charmed it out of the 
hand of a sentinel on duty. 

Lieutenant Edward E. Sill, of General Daniel 
Butterfi eld's staff, whom I had met at Macon, 
during my absence had come to " Sorghum " 
from a fruitless trip to Macon for exchange, 
and I had promised to join him in an escape 
when he could secure a pair of shoes. On the 
29th of November our mess had cut down a 
big pine tree and had rolled into camp a short 
section of the trunk, which a Tennessee offi- 
cer was to split into shingles to complete our 
hut, a pretty good cabin with earthen fireplace. 
While we were resting from our exertion, Sill 
appeared with his friend Lieutenant A. T. 
Lamson of the 104th New York Infantry, and 
reminded me of my promise. The prisoners 
always respected their parole on wood-chop- 
ping expeditions, and went out and came in 
at the main entrance. The guards were a par- 
ticularly verdant body of back country militia, 
and the confusion of the parole system enabled 
us to practice ruses. In our present difficulty we 
resorted to a new expedient and forged a parole. 
The next day all three of us were quietly walk- 
ing down the guard-line on the outside. At the 
creek, where all the camp came for water, we 



found Dorr and Byers and West, and calling to 
one of them in the presence of the guard asked 
for blankets to bring in spruce boughs for beds. 
When the blankets came they contained cer- 
tain haversacks, cups, and little indispensable 
articles for the road. Falling back into the 
woods, we secured a safe hiding-place until 
after dark. Just beyond the village of Lexing- 
ton we successfully evaded the 'first picket, 
being warned of its presence by the^molder- 
ing embers in the road. A few nights after 
this, having exposed ourselves and anticipat- 
ing pursuit, we pushed on until we came to a 
stream crossing the road. Up this we waded 
for some distance and secured a hiding-place 
on a neighboring hill. In the morning we looked 
out upon mounted men and dogs, at the very 
point where we had entered the stream, search- 
ing for our lost trail. We spent two days dur- 
ing a severe storm of rain and sleet in a farm 
barn where the slaves were so drunk on apple- 
jack that they had forgotten us and left us 
with nothing to eat but raw turnips. One night, 
in our search for provisions, we met a party of 
negroes burning charcoal who took us to their 
camp and sent out for a supply of food. While 
waiting a venerable " uncle " proposed to hold 
a prayer meeting. So under the tall trees 
and by the light of the smoldering coal-pits 
the old man prayed long and fervently to the 
" bressed Lord and Massa Lincoln," and 
hearty amens echoed through the woods. Be- 
sides a few small potatoes, one dried goat ham 
was all our zealous friends could procure. 
The next day, having made our camp in the 
secure depths of a dry swamp, we lighted the 
only fire we allowed ourselves between Col- 
umbia and the mountains. The ham, which 
was almost as light as cork, was riddled with 
worm holes, and as hard as a petrified sponge. 
We avoided the towns, and after an end- 
less variety of adventures approached the 
mountains, cold, hungry, ragged, and foot- 
sore. On the night of December 13 we were 
grouped about a guide-post, at a fork in the 
road, earnestly contending as to which way we 
should proceed. Lieutenant Sill was for the 
right, I was for the left, and no amount of 
persuasion could induce Lieutenant Lamson 
to decide the controversy. I yielded, and we 
turned to the right. After walking a mile in 

a state of general uncertainty we came to a 
low white farm-house standing very near to 
the road. It was now close upon midnight 
and the windows were all dark, but from a 
house of logs, partly behind the other, gleamed 
a bright light. Judging this to be servants' 
quarters, two of us remained back while Lieu- 
tenant Sill made a cautious approach. In 
due time a negro appeared, advancing stealth- 
ily, and, beckoning to my companion and me, 
conducted us in the shadow of a hedge to a 
side window, through which we clambered into 
the cabin. We were made very comfortable in 
the glow of a bright wood fire. Sweet potatoes 
were already roasting in the ashes, and a tin 
pot of barley coffee was steaming on the 
coals. Rain and sleet had begun to fall, 
and it was decided that after having been 
warmed and refreshed we should, be con- 
cealed in the barn until the following night. 
Accordingly we were conducted thither and 
put to bed upon a pile of corn-shucks high 
up under the roof. Secure as this retreat 
seemed, it was deemed advisable in the morn- 
ing to burrow several feet down in the mow, 
so that the children, if by any chance they 
should climb so high, might romp unsus- 
pecting over Our heads. We could still look 
out through the cracks in the siding and get 
sufficient light whereby to study a map of 
the Southern States, which had been brought 
us with our breakfast. A luxurious repast was 
in preparation, to be eaten at the quarters be- 
fore starting, but a frolic being in progress, and 
a certain negro present of questionable fidelity, 
the banquet was transferred to the barn. The 
great barn doors were set open, and the cloth 
was spread on the floor by the light of the 
moon. Certainly we had partaken of no such 
substantial fare within the Confederacy. The 
central dish was a pork pie, flanked by savory 
little patties of sausage. There were sweet pota- 
toes, fleecy biscuits, a jug of sorghum, and a 
pitcher of sweet milk. Most delicious of all was 
a variety of corn-bread, having tiny bits of fresh 
pork baked in it, like plums in a pudding. 1 

Filling our haversacks with the fragments, 
we took grateful leave of our sable benefactors 
and resumed our journey, retracing our steps 
to the point of disagreement of the evening 
before. Long experience in night marching 

1 Major Sill contributes the following evidence of 
the impression our trio made upon one, at least, of the 
pickaninnies who looked on in the moonlight. The 
picture of Lieutenants Sill and Lamson which ap- 
pears on page 937 was enlarged from a small photo- 
graph taken on their arrival at Chattanooga, before 
divesting themselves of the rags worn throughout the 
long journey. Years afterwards Major Sill gave one 
of these pictures to Wallace Bruce of Florida, now 
United States consul at Glasgow. In the winter of 
1888-89 Mr. Bruce, at his Florida home, was showing 

the photograph to his family when it caught the eye 
of a colored servant, who exclaimed: "O Massa 
Bruce, I know those gen'men. My father and mother 
hid 'em in Massa's barn at Pickensville and fed 'em ; 
there was three of 'em; I saw 'em." This servant 
was a child scarcely ten years old in 1864, and could 
only have seen us while we were eating our supper in 
the barn door, and that in the uncertain moonlight. Yet 
more than twenty years thereafter he greeted the pho- 
tograph of the ragged Yankee officers with a flash of 

93 6 


had taught us extreme caution. We had ad- 
vanced along the new road but a short way 
when we were startled by the barking of a 
house dog. Apprehending that something was 
moving in front of us, we instantly withdrew into 
the woods. We had scarcely concealed our- 
selves when two cavalrymen passed along, driv- 
ing before them a prisoner. Aware that it was 
high time to betake ourselves to the cross-roads 
and describe a wide circle around the military 
station at Pickensville, we first sought informa- 
tion. A ray of light was visible from a hut in the 
woods, and believing from its humble appear- 
ance that it sheltered friends, my companions 
lay down in concealment while I advanced to 
reconnoiter. I gained the side of the house, and 
looking through a crack in the boards saw, to my 
horror, a soldier lying on his back before the 
fire and playing with a dog. I stole back with 
redoubled care. Thoroughly alarmed by the 
dangers we had already encountered, we 
decided to abandon the roads. Near mid- 
night of December 16 we passed through a 
wooden gate on a level road leading into the 
forest. Believing that the lateness of the hour 
would secure us from further dangers, we re- 
solved to press on with all speed, when two 
figures with lighted torches came suddenly into 
view. Knowing that we were yet unseen, we 
turned into the woods and concealed ourselves 
behind separate trees at no great distance from 
the path. Soon the advancing lights revealed 
two hunters, mere lads, but having at their 
heels a pack of mongrel dogs, with which they 
had probably been pursuing the coon or the 
possum. The boys would have passed un- 
aware of our presence, but the dogs, scurrying 
along with their noses in the leaves, soon struck 
our trail and were instantly yelping about us. 
We had possessed ourselves of the name of 
the commanding officer of the neighboring 
post at Pendleton, and advanced boldly, repre- 
senting ourselves to be his soldiers. " Then 
where did you get them blue pantaloons ? " 
they demanded, exchanging glances, which 
showed they were not ignorant of our true 
character. We coolly faced them down and re- 
sumed our march leisurely, while the boys still 
lingered undecided. When out of sight we 
abandoned the road and fled at the top of 
our speed. We had covered a long distance 
through forest and field before we heard in 
our wake the faint yelping of the pack. 
Plunging into the first stream, we dashed for 
some distance along its bed. Emerging on 
the opposite bank, we sped on through 
marshy fields, skirting high hills and bound- 
ing down through dry watercourses, over 
shelving stones and accumulated barriers of 
driftwood ; now panting up a steep ascent, 
and now resting for a moment to rub our shoes 

with the resinous needles of the pine ; always 
within hearing of the dogs, whose fitful cries 
varied in volume in accordance with the broken 
conformation of the intervening country. 
Knowing that in speed and endurance we 
were no match for our four-footed pursuers, 
we trusted to our precautions for throwing 
them off the scent, mindful that they were but 
an ill-bred kennel and the more easily to be 
disposed # of. Physically we were capable of 
prolonged exertion. Fainter and less frequent 
came the cry of the dogs, until, ceasing alto- 
gether, we were assured of our escape. 

At Oconee, on Sunday, December 18, we 
met a negro well acquainted with the roads 
and passes into North Carolina, who furnished 
us information by which we traveled for two 
nights, recognizing on the second objects 
which by his direction we avoided, like the 
house of Black Bill McKinney, and going 
directly to that of friendly old Tom Hand- 
cock. The first of these two nights we strug- 
gled up the foothills and outlying spurs of 
the mountains, through an uninhabited waste 
of rolling barrens, along an old stage road, 
long deserted, and in places impassable to 
a saddle mule. Lying down before morn- 
ing, high up on the side of the mountain, we 
fell asleep, to be awakened by thunder and 
lightning and to find torrents of hail and sleet 
beating upon our blankets. Chilled to the 
bone, we ventured to build a small fire in a 
secluded place. After dark, and before aban- 
doning our camp, we gathered quantities of 
wood, stacking it upon the fire, which when 
we left it was a wild tower of flame lighting 
up the whole mountain side in the direction 
we had come, and seeming, in some sort, to 
atone for a long succession of shivering days 
in fireless bivouac. We followed the same 
stage road through the scattering settlement 
of Casher's Valley in Jackson County, North 
Carolina. A little farther on, two houses, of 
hewn logs, with verandas and green blinds, 
just fitted the description we had received of 
the home of old Tom Handcock. Knocking 
boldly at the door of the farther one, we were 
soon in the presence of the loyal mountaineer. 
He and his wife had been sleeping on a bed 
spread upon the floor before the fire. Draw- 
ing this to one side, they heaped the chimney 
with green wood and were soon listening 
with genuine delight to the story of our 

After breakfast next day, Tom, with his rifle, 
led us by a back road to the house of " 'Squire 
Larkin C. Hooper," a leading loyalist, whom 
we met on the way, and together we proceeded 
to his house. Ragged and forlorn, we were 
eagerly welcomed at his home by Hooper's 
invalid wife and daughters. For several days 



we enjoyed a hospitality 
given as freely to utter 
strangers as if we had been 
relatives of the family. 

Here we learned of a 
party about to start through 
the mountains for East Ten- 
nessee, guided by Emanuel 
Headen, who lived on the 
crest of the Blue Ridge. 
Our friend Tom was to 
be one of the party, and 
other refugees were com- 
ing over the Georgia bor- 
der, where Headen, better 
known in the settlement as 
"Man Heady," was muster- 
ing his party. It now being 
near Christmas, and the 
'squire's family in daily 
expectation of a relative, 
who was a captain in the 
Confederate army, it was 
deemed prudent for us to 
go on to Headen's under 
the guidance of Tom. Set- 
ting out at sunset on the 
23d of December, it was 
late in the evening when we 
arrived at our destination, 
having walked nine miles 
up the mountain trails over 
a light carpeting of snow. 
Pausing in front of a diminu- 
tive cabin, through the 
chinks of whose stone fire- 
place and stick chimney 
the whole interior seemed 
to be red hot like a furnace, 
our guide demanded, " Is 
Man Heady to hum?" Re- 
ceiving a sharp negative in 
reply, he continued, " Well, 
can Tom get to stay all 
night?" At this the door 
flew open and a skinny 
womanappeared,her home- 
spun frock pendent with tow-headed ur- 

" In course you can," she cried, leading 
the way into the cabin. Never have I seen 
so unique a character as this voluble, hat- 
chet-faced, tireless woman. Her skin was 
like yellow parchment, and I doubt if she 
knew by experience what it was to be sick 
or weary. She had built the stake-and-cap 
fences that divided the fields, and she boasted 
of the acres she had plowed. The cabin 
was very small. Two bedsteads, with a nar- 
row alleyway between, occupied half the in- 
terior. One was heaped with rubbish and in 
Vol. XL.— 123. 



the other slept the whole family, consisting of 
father, mother, a daughter of sixteen, and two 
little boys. When I add that the room con- 
tained a massive timber loom, a table, a 
spinning wheel, and a variety of rude seats, 
it will be understood that we were crowded 
uncomfortably close to the fire. Shrinking back 
as far as possible from the blaze, we lis- 
tened in amused wonder to the tongue of this 
seemingly untamed virago, who, nevertheless, 
proved to be the kindest-hearted of women. 
She cursed, in her high-pitched tones, for a 
pack of fools, the men who had brought on 
the war. Roderic Norton, who lived down 



the mountain, she expressed a profane desire 
to "stomp through the turnpike" because at 
some time he had stolen one of her hogs, 
marked, as to the ear, with " two smooth craps 
an' a slit in the left." Once only she had jour- 
neyed into the low country, where she had 
seen those twin marvels, steam cars and brick 
chimneys. On this occasion she had driven a 


heifer to market, making a journey of forty 
miles, walking beside her horse and wagon, 
which she took along to bring back the corn- 
meal received in payment for the animal. 
Charged by her husband to bring back the 
heifer bell, and being denied that musical in- 
strument by the purchaser, it immediately 
assumed more importance to h<Sr mind than 
horse, wagon, and corn-meal. Baffled at first, 
she proceeded to the pasture in the gray of 
the morning, cornered the cow and cut off 
the bell, and, in her own picturesque language, 
" walked through the streets of Walhalla cuss- 
in'." Rising at midnight she would fall to 
spinning with all her energy. To us, waked 
from sleep on the floor by the humming of the 
wheel, she seemed by the light of the low fire 
like a witch in a sun-bonnet, darting forward 
and back. 

We remained there several days, sometimes 
at the cabin and sometimes at a cavern in the 
rocks such as abound throughout the moun- 
tains, and which are called by the natives "rock 
houses." Many of the men at that time were 
" outliers " — that is, they camped in the moun- 
tain fastnesses, receiving their food from some 
member of the family. Some of these men, as 

now, had their copper stills in the rock houses, 
while others, more wary of the recruiting ser- 
geant, wandered from point to point, their only 
furniture a rifle and a bedquilt. On December 
29, we were joined at the cavern by Lieu- 
tenant Knapp and Captain Smith, Federal 
officers, who had also made their way from 
Columbia, and by three refugees from Georgia, 

whom I remember 
as Old Man Tigue 
and the two Vin- 
cent boys. During 
the night our party 
was to start across 
the mountains for 
Tennessee. Tom 
Handcock was mo- 
mentarily expected 
to join us. Our 
guide was busy 
with preparations 
for the journey. 
The night coming 
on icy cold, and a 
cutting wind driv- 
ing the smoke of 
the fire into our 
granite house, we 
abandoned it at 
nine o'clock and 
descended to the 
cabin. Headenand 
his wife had gone 
to the mill for a 
supply of corn-meal. Although it was time for 
their return, we were in no wise alarmed by their 
absence, and formed a jovial circle about the 
roaring chimney. About midnight came a rap 
on the door. Thinking it was Tom Handcock 
and some of his companions, I threw it open with 
an eager " Come in, boys ! " The boys began to 
come in, stamping the snow from their boots 
and rattling their muskets on the floor, until the 
house was full, and yet others were on guard 
without and crowding the porch. " Man 
Heady " and his wife were already prisoners 
at the mill, and the house had been picketed 
for some hours awaiting the arrival of the other 
refugees, who had discovered the plot just 
in time to keep out of the toils. Marshaled 
in some semblance of military array, we were 
marched down the mountain, over the frozen 
ground, to the house of old Roderic Norton. 
The Yankee officers were sent to an upper 
room, while the refugees were guarded below, 
under the immediate eyes of the. soldiery. 
Making the best of our misfortune, our origi- 
nal trio bounced promptly into a warm bed, 
which had been recently deserted by some 
members of the family, and secured a good 
night's rest. 



Lie utenant 
Knapp, who had 
imprudently in- 
dulged in frozen 
chestnuts on the 
mountain side, was 
attacked with vio- 
lent cramps, and 
kept the house- 
hold below stairs 
in commotion all 
night humanely 
endeavoring to as- 
suage his agony. 
In the morning, 
although quite re- 
covered, he cun- 
ningly feigned a 
continuance of his 
pains, and was left 
behind in the keep- 
ing of two guards, 
who having no sus- 
picion of his deep 
designs left their 
guns in the house 
and went out to 
the spring to wash. 
Knapp, instantly 
on the alert, pos- 
sessed himself of 
the muskets, and 
breaking the lock 
of one, by a power- 
ful effort he bent 
the barrel of the 
other, and dashed 
out through the 
garden. His keep- 
ers, returning from 
the spring, shouted 

and rushed indoors only to find their disabled 
pieces. They joined our party later in the day, 
rendering a chap fallen account of their de- 
tached service. 

We had but a moderate march to make to 
the headquarters of the battalion, where we 
were to spend the night. Our guards we found 
kindly disposed towards us, but bitterly up- 
braiding the refugees, whom they saluted by 
the ancient name of Tories. Lieutenant Cog- 
dill, in command of the expedition, privately 
informed us that his sympathies were entirely 
ours, but as a matter of duty he should guard 
us jealously while under his military charge. 
If we could effect our escape thereafter we 
had only to come to his mountain home and 
he would conceal us until such time as he 
could despatch us with safety over the borders. 
These mountain soldiers were mostly of two 
classes, both opposed to the war, but doing 


home-guard duty in lieu of sterner service in 
the field. Numbers were of the outlier class, 
who, wearied of continual hiding in the lau- 
rel brakes, had embraced this service as a com- 
promise. Many were deserters, some of whom 
had coolly set at defiance the terms of their 
furloughs, while others had abandoned the 
camps in Virginia, and, versed in mountain 
craft, had made their way along the Blue 
Ridge and put in a heroic appearance in their 
native valleys. 

That night we arrived at a farm-house near 
the river, where we found Major Parker, com- 
manding the battalion, with a small detach- 
ment, billeted upon the family. The farmer 
was a gray-haired old loyalist, whom I shall 
always remember, leaning on his staff in the 
middle of the kitchen, barred out from his 
place in the chimney-corner by the noisy cir- 
cle of his unbidden guests. Major Parker was 



a brisk little man, clad in brindle jeans of an- to be in the sunniest of spirits. No sign of 

cient cut, resplendent with brass buttons, commotion was visible. " Step out to the 

Two small piercing eyes, deep-set beside a branch, gentlemen; your parole of honor is 

hawk's-beak nose, twinkled from under the rim sufficient; you '11 find towels — been a pris- 

of his brown straw hat, whose crown was de- oner myself." And he restrained by a sign 

fiantly surmounted by a cock's feather. But he the sentinel who would have accompanied us. 

was exceedingly jolly withal and welcomed the At the branch, in the yard, we found the other 

Yankees with pompous good humor, despatch- refugees trembling for their fate, and learned 

ing a sergeant for a jug of apple-jack, which that Headen had gone to the orchard in the 

was doubtless as inexpensive to the major as charge of a file of soldiers with a rope. While we 

his other hospitality. Having been a prisoner were discussing the situation and endeavoring 

at Chicago, he 
prided himself 
on his know- 
ledge of dun- 
geon etiquette 
and the military 
courtesies due 
to our rank. 


to calm the apprehensions 
of the Georgians the execu- 
tioners returned from the 
orchard, our guide march- 
ing in advance and looking 
none the worse for the 
rough handling he had un- 
dergone. The brave fellow 
had confided his last mes- 
sage and been thrice drawn 
up towards the branch of an 
apple tree, and as many 
times lowered for the in- 
formation it was supposed 
he would give. Nothing 
was learned, and it is probable he had 
no secrets to disclose or conceal. 

Lieutenant Cogdill, with two soldiers, 
was detailed to conduct us to Qualla- 
town, a Cherokee station at the foot 
of the Great Smoky Mountains. Two 
horses were allotted to the guard, and 
we set out in military order, the refu- 
gees two and two in advance, Headen 
and Old Man Tigue lashed together by 
the wrists, and the rear brought up by 
the troopers on horseback. It was the 
last day of the year, and although a 
winter morning, the rare mountain air 
was as soft as spring. We struck the 
banks of the Tuckasegee directly op- 
posite to a feathery waterfall, which, leap- 
ing over a crag of the opposite cliff, was 
dissipated in a glittering sheet of spray 
before reaching the tops of the trees 
below. As the morning advanced we fell 
We were awakened in the morning by high- into a more negligent order of marching. The 
pitched voices in the room below. Lieutenant beautiful river, a wide, swift current, flowing 
Sill and I had passed the night in neighboring smoothly between thickly wooded banks, swept 

i Jm/^ 

/^'l/i, 1 



caverns of the same miraculous feather-bed. 
We recognized the voice of the major, inform- 
ing some culprit that he had just ten minutes to 
live, and that if he wished to send any dying 
message to his wife or children then and there 

by on our left, and on the right wild, unin- 
habited mountains closed in the road. The 
two Vincents were strolling along far in ad- 
vance. Some distance behind them were 
Headen and Tigue ; the remainder of us fol- 

was his last opportunity ; and then followed lowing in a general group, Sill mounted beside 

the tramping of the guards as they retired from one of the guards. Advancing in this order, 

his presence with their victim. Hastily dress- a cry from the front broke on the stillness of 

ing, we hurried down to find what was the the woods, and we beheld Old Man Tigue 

matter. We were welcomed with a cheery gesticulating wildly in the center of the road 

good morning from the major, who seemed and screaming, " He 's gone ! He 's gone ! 



Catch him ! " Sure enough the old man was 
alone, the fragment of the parted strap dan- 
gling from his outstretched wrist. The guard, 
who was mounted, dashed off in pursuit, fol- 
lowed by the lieutenant on foot, but both 
soon returned, giving over the hopeless chase. 
Thoroughly frightened by the events of the 
morning, Headen 1 had watched his opportunity 
to make good his escape, and as we afterwards 
learned, joined by Knapp and Tom Handcock, 
he conducted a party safely to Tennessee. 

At Webster, the court town of Jackson 
County, we were quartered for the night in 
the jail, but accompanied Lieutenant Cogdill 
to a venison breakfast at the parsonage with Mrs. 
Harris and her daughter, who had called on us 
the evening before. Snow had fallen during the 
night, and when we continued our march it was 
with the half-frozen slush crushing in and out, at 
every step, through our broken shoes. Before 
the close of this dreary New Year's day we 
came upon the scene of one of those wild trag- 
edies which are still of too frequent occurrence 
in those remote regions, isolated from the strong 
arm of the law. Our road led down and around 
the mountain side, which on our right was a 
barren, rocky waste, sloping gradually up from 
the inner curve of the arc we were describing. 
From this direction arose a low wailing sound, 
and a little farther on we came in view of a 
dismal group of men, women, and mules. In 
the center of the gathering lay the lifeless re- 
mains of a father and his two sons; seated 
upon the ground, swaying and weeping over 
their dead, were the mother and wives of the 
young men. A burial party, armed with spades 
and picks, waited by their mules, while at a 
respectful distance from the mourners stood 
a circle of neighbors and passers-by, some gaz- 
ing in silent sympathy, and others not hesi- 
tating to express a quiet approval of the 
shocking tragedy. Between two families, the 
Hoopers and the Watsons, a bitter feud had 
long existed, and from time to time men of 
each clan had fallen by the rifles of the other. 
The Hoopers were loyal Union men, and if 
the Watsons yielded any loyalty it was to the 
State of North Carolina. On one occasion 
shortly before the final tragedy, when one of 
the young Hoopers was sitting quietly in his 
door, a light puffof smoke rose from the bushes 
and a rifle ball plowed through his leg. The 
Hoopers resolved to begin the new year by 
wiping out their enemies, root and branch. 
Before light they had surrounded the log cabin 
of the Watsons and secured all the male in- 

mates, except one who, wounded, escaped 
through a window. The latter afterwards exe- 
cuted a singular revenge, by killing and skin- 
ning the dog of his enemies and elevating the 
carcass on a pole in front of their house. 

After a brief stay at Quallatown we set out for 
Asheville, leaving behind our old and friendly 
guard. Besides the soldiers who now had us 
in charge, a Cherokee Indian was allotted to 
each prisoner, with instructions to keep his 
man constantly in view. To travel with an 
armed Indian, sullen and silent, trotting at 
your heels like a dog, with very explicit in- 
structions to blow out your brains at the first 
attempt to escape, is neither cheerful nor or- 
namental, and we were a sorry looking party 
plodding silently along the road. Detachments 
of prisoners were frequently passed over this 
route, and regular stopping-places were estab- 
lished for the nights. It was growing dusk 
when we arrived at the first cantonment, which 
was the wing of a great barren farm-house 
owned by Colonel Bryson. The place was 
already occupied by a party of refugees, and 
we were directed to a barn in the field beyond. 
We had brought with us uncooked rations, 
and while two of the soldiers went into the 
house for cooking utensils, the rest of the party, 
including the Indians, were leaning in a line 
upon the dooryard fence; Sill and Lamson 
were at the end of the line, where the fence 
cornered with a hedge. Presently the two 
soldiers reappeared, one of them with an iron 
pot in which to cook our meat, and the other 
swinging in his hand a burning brand. In the 
wake of these guides we followed down to the 
barn, and had already started a fire when word 
came from the house that for fear of rain we 
had best return to the corn-barn. It was not 
until we were again in the road that I noticed 
the absence of Sill and Lamson. I hastened 
to Smith and confided the good news. The 
fugitives were missed almost simultaneously 
by the guards, who first beat up the vicinity 
of the barn, and then, after securing the re- 
mainder of us in a corn-crib, sent out the In- 
dians in pursuit. Faithful dogs, as these Chero- 
keeshad shown themselves during the day, they 
proved but poor hunters when the game was 
in the bush, and soon returned, giving over the 
chase. Half an hour later they were all back 
in camp, baking their hoecake in genuine 
aboriginal fashion, flattened on the surface of 
a board and inclined to the heat of the fire. 2 

That I was eager to follow goes without 
saying, but our keepers had learned our slip- 

1 A short time ago the writer received the following taken as prisoner, has been dead for years. Old Tom 
letter: " Casher's Valley, May 28, 1890. Old Man- Handcock is dead.— W. R. Hooper." 
uel Headen and wife are living, but separated. Julia 2 Sill and Lamson reached Loudon, Tennessee, in 
Ann is living with her mother. The old lady is blind. February. A few days after their escape from the In- 
Old man Norton (Roderic), to whose house you were dian guard they arrived at the house of " Shooting John 

Vol. XL.— 124. 



pery character. All the way to Asheville, day 
and night, we were watched with sleepless vigi- 
lance. There we gave our parole, Smith and 
I, and secured thereby comfortable quarters in 
the court-house, with freedom to stroll about 
the town. Old Man Tigue and the Vincents 
were committed to the county jail. We were 
there a week, part of my spare time being em- 
ployed in helping a Confederate company of- 
ficer make out a correct pay-roll. 

When our diminished ranks had been re- 
cruited by four more officers from Columbia, 
who had been captured near the frozen sum- 
mit of the Great Smoky Mountains, we were 
started on a journey of sixty miles to Green- 
ville in South Carolina. The night before our 
arrival we were quartered at a large farm-house. 
The prisoners, together with the privates of 
the guard, were allotted a comfortable room, 
which contained, however, but a single bed. 
The officer in charge had retired to enjoy 
the hospitality of the family. A flock of enor- 
mous white pullets were roosting in the yard. 
Procuring an iron kettle from the servants, who 
looked with grinning approval upon all forms 
of chicken stealing, we sallied forth to the cap- 
ture. Twisting the precious necks of half a 
dozen, we left them to die in the grass while 
we pierced the side of a sweet-potato mound. 
Loaded with our booty we retreated to the house 
undiscovered, and spent the night in cooking 
in one pot instead of sleeping in one bed. The 
fowls were skinned instead of plucked, and, van- 
dals that we were, dressed on the backs of the 
picture frames, taken down from the walls. 

At Greenville we were lodged in the county 
jail to await the reconstruction of railway 
bridges, when we were to be transported to 
Columbia. The jail was a stone structure, 
two stories in height, with halls through the 
center on both floors and square rooms on 
each side. The lock was turned on our 
little party of six in one of these upper rooms, 
having two grated windows looking down on 
the walk. Through the door which opened 
on the hall a square hole was cut as high 
as one's face and large enough to admit the 
passage of a plate. Aside from the rigor of 
our confinement we were treated with marked 
kindness. We had scarcely walked about our 
dungeon before the jailer's daughters were at 
the door with their autograph albums. In a 
few days we were playing draughts and read- 
ing Bulwer, while the girls, without, were 
preparing our food and knitting for us warm 
new stockings. Notwithstanding all these at- 

Brown," who confided them to the care of the young 
Hoopers and a party of their outlying companions. 
From a rocky cliff overlooking the valley of the Tuck- 
asegee they could look down on the river roads dotted 
with the sheriff's posse in pursuit of the Hoopers. So 
near were they that they could distinguish a rela- 

tentions, we were ungratefully discontented. 
At the end of the first week we were joined 
by seven enlisted men, Ohio boys, who like 
ourselves had been found at large in the 
mountains. From one of these new arrivals 
we procured a case-knife and a gun screw- 
driver. Down on the hearth before the fire 
the screwdriver was placed on the thick edge 
of the knife and belabored with a beef bone 
until a few inches of its back were converted 
into a rude saw. The grate in the window 
was formed of cast-iron bars, passing perpen- 
dicularly through wrought-iron plates, bedded 
in the stone jambs. If one of these perpen- 
dicular bars, an inch and a half square, could 
be cut through, the plates might be easily 
bent so as to permit the egress of a man. 
With this end in view we cautiously began 
operations. Outside of the bars a piece of car- 
pet had been stretched to keep out the raw 
wind, and behind this we worked with safety. 
An hour's toil produced but a few feathery fil- 
ings on the horizontal plate, but many hands 
make light work, and steadily the cut grew 
deeper. We recalled the adventures of Claude 
Duval, Dick Turpin, and Sixteen-string Jack, 
and sawed away. During the available hours 
of three days and throughout one entire night 
the blade of steel was worrying, rasping, eat- 
ing the iron bar. At last the grosser yielded 
to the temper and persistence of the finer 
metal. It was Saturday night when the toil- 
some cut was completed, and preparations 
were already under way for a speedy depart- 
ure. The jail had always been regarded as too 
secure to require a military guard, although 
soldiers were quartered in the town ; besides, 
the night was so cold that a crust had formed 
on the snow, and both citizens and soldiers, 
unused to such extreme weather, would be 
likely to remain indoors. For greater secrecy 
of movement, we divided into small parties, 
aiming to traverse different roads. I was to go 
with my former companion, Captain Smith. 
Lots were cast to determine the order of our 
going. First exit was allotted to four of the 
Ohio soldiers. Made fast to the grating out- 
side were a bit of rope and strip of blankets, 
along which to descend. Our room was imme- 
diately over that of the jailer and his sleeping 
family, and beneath our opening was a win- 
dow, which each man must pass in his descent. 
At eleven o'clock the exodus began. The first 
man was passed through the bars amid a sup- 
pressed buzz of whispered cautions. His boots 
were handed after him in a haversack. The 

tive of the Watsons leading the sheriff's party. One 
of the Hooper boys, with characteristic recklessness 
and to the consternation of the others, stood boldly 
out on a great rock in plain sight of his pursuers (if 
they had chanced to look up), half resolved to try his 
rifle at the last of the Watsons. 



rest of us, pressing our faces to the frosty grat- 
ing, listened breathlessly for the success of the 
movement we could no longer see. Suddenly 
there was a crash, and in the midst of mut- 
terings of anger we snatched in the rag lad- 
der and restored the piece of carpeting to its 
place outside the bars. Our pioneer had hurt 
his hand against the rough stones, and, flounder- 
ing in mid-air, had dashed his leg through sash 
and glass of the window below. We could 
see nothing of his further movements, but soon 
discovered the jailer standing in the door, look- 
ing up and down the street, seemingly in the 
dark as to where the crash came from. At last, 
wearied and worried and disappointed, we lay 
down in our blankets upon the hard floor. 

At daylight we were awakened by the voice 
of Miss Emma at the hole in the door. " Who 
got out last night ? " " Welty." " Well, you 
was fools you did n't all go ; pap would n't 'a' 
stopped you. If you '11 keep the break concealed 
until night we '11 let you all out." The secret 
of the extreme kindness of our keepers was ex- 
plained. The jailer, a loyalist, retained his posi- 
tion as a civil detail, thus protecting himself and 
sons from conscription. Welty had been taken 
in the night before,his bruises had beenanointed, 
and he had been provisioned for the journey. 
• We spent the day repairing our clothing 
and preparing for the road. My long-heeled 
cowhides, " wife's shoes," for which I had 
exchanged a uniform waistcoat with a cotton- 
wooled old darky on the banks of the Sa- 
luda, were about parting soles from uppers, 
and I kept the twain together by winding my 
feet with stout cords. At supper an extra ra- 
tion was given us. As soon as it was dark the 
old jailer appeared among us and gave us 
a minute description of the different roads 
leading west into the mountains, warning us of 
certain dangers. At eleven o'clock Miss Emma 
came with the great keys, and we followed 
her, in single file, down the stairs and out into 
the back yard of the jail. From the broken 
gratings in front, the bit of rope and strips of 
blanket were left dangling in the wind. 

We made short work of leave-taking, Cap- 
tain Smith and I separating immediately from 
the rest, and pushing hurriedly out of the sleep- 
ing town, by back streets, into the bitter cold 
of the country roads. We stopped once to 
warm at the pits of some negro charcoal 
burners, and before day dawned had traveled 
sixteen miles. We found a sheltered nook on 
the side of the mountain open to the sun, 
where we made a bed of dry leaves and re- 
mained for the day. At night we set out again, 
due west by the stars, but before we had gone 
far my companion, who claimed to know some- 
thing of the country, insisted upon going to 
the left, and within a mile turned into another 

left-hand road. I protested, claiming that this 
course was leading us back. While we were 
yet contending we came to a bridgeless creek 
whose dark waters barred our progress, and at 
the same moment, as if induced by the thought 
of the fording, the captain- was seized with 
rheumatic pains in his knees, so that he walked 
with difficulty. We had just passed a house 
where lights were still showing, and to this we 
decided to return, hoping at least to find shel- 
ter for Smith. Leaving him at the gate, I went 
to a side porch and knocked at the door, which 
was opened by a woman who proved to be 
friendly to our cause, her husband being in 
the rebel army much against his will. We 
were soon seated to the right and left of her 
fireplace. Blazing pine knots brilliantly lighted 
the room, and a number of beds lined the walls. 
A trundle-bed before the fire was occupied by 
a very old woman, who was feebly moaning 
with rheumatism. Our hostess shouted into 
the old lady's ear, " Granny, them 's Yan- 
kees." " Be they ! " said she, peering at us with 
her poor old eyes. " Be ye sellin' tablecloths ? " 
When it was explained that we were just from 
the war, she demanded, in an absent way, to 
know if we were Britishers. We slept in one 
of the comfortable beds, and as a measure of 
prudence passed the day in the woods, leaving 
at nightfall with well-filled haversacks. Captain 
Smith was again the victim of his rheumatism, 
and directing me to his friends at Csesar's Head, 
where I was to wait for him until Monday (it 
then being Tuesday), he returned to the house, 
little thinking that we were separating forever. 
I traveled very rapidly all night, hoping to 
make the whole distance, but day was break- 
ing when I reached the head waters of the Sa- 
luda. Following up the stream I found a dam 
on which I crossed, and although the sun was 
rising and the voices of children mingled with 
the lowing of cattle in the frosty air, I ran 
across the fields and gained a secure hiding- 
place on the side of the mountain. It was 
a long, solitary day, and glad was I when 
it grew sufficiently dark to turn the little set- 
tlement and get into the main road up the 
mountain. It was six zigzag miles to the top, 
the road turning on log abutments, well an- 
chored with stones, and not a habitation on the 
way until I should reach Bishop's house, on 
the crest of the divide. Half way up I paused 
before a big summer hotel, looming up in the 
woods like the ghost of a deserted factory, 
its broken windows and rotting gateways re- 
doubling the solitude of the bleak mountain 
side. Shortly before reaching Bishop's, "wife's 
shoes " became quite unmanageable. One had 
climbed up my leg half way to the knee, and I 
knocked at the door with the wreck of the other 
in my hand. My visit had been preceded but a 



day by a squad of partisan raiders, who had car- 
ried away the bedding and driven off the cattle 
of my new friends, and for this reason the most 
generous hospitality could offer no better couch 
than the hard floor. Stretched thereon in close 
proximity to the dying fire, the cold air coming 
up through the wide cracks between the hewn 
planks seemed to be cutting me in sections as 
with icy saws, so that I was forced to establish 
myself lengthwise of a broad puncheon at the 
side of the room and under the table. 

In this family " the gray mare was the better 
horse," and poor Bishop, an inoffensive man, 
and a cripple withal, was wedded to a regular 
Xantippe. It was evident that unpleasant 
thoughts were dominant in the woman's mind 
as she proceeded sullenly and vigorously with 
preparations for breakfast. The bitter bread of 
charity was being prepared with a vengeance for 
the unwelcome guest. Premonitions of the com- 
ing storm flashed now and then in lightning cuffs 
on the ears of the children, or crashed venom- 
ously among the pottery in the fireplace. At 
last the repast was spread, the table still stand- 
ing against the wall, as is the custom among 
mountain housewives. The good-natured hus- 
band now advanced cheerfully to lend a hand 
in removing it into the middle of the room. 
It was when one of the table legs overturned 
the swill-pail that the long pent-up storm 
burst in a torrent of invective. The prospect 
of spending several days here was a very gloomy 
outlook, and the relief was great when it was 
proposed to pay a visit to Neighbor Case, 
whose house was in the nearest valley, and with 
whose sons Captain Smith had lain in conceal- 
ment for some weeks on a former visit to the 
mountains. I was curious to see his sons, who 
were famous outliers. From safe cover they 
delighted to pick off a recruiting officer or a tax- 
in-kind collector, or tumble out of their sad- 
dles the last drivers of a wagon train. These 
lively young men had been in unusual demand 
of late and their hiding-place was not known 
even to the faithful, so I was condemned to 
the society of an outlier of a less picturesque 
variety. Pink Bishop was a blacksmith, and 
just the man to forge me a set of shoes from 
the leather Neighbor Case had already pro- 
vided. The little still-shed, concealed from 
the road only by a low hill, was considered an 
unsafe harbor, on account of a fresh fall of 
snow with its sensibility to tell-tale impressions. 
So we set up our shoe factory in a deserted 
cabin, well back on the mountain and just 
astride of that imaginary line which divides the 
Carolinas. From the fireplace we dug away 
the cornstalks, heaping the displaced bundles 
against broken windows and windy cracks, 
and otherwise secured our retreat against frost 
and enemies. Then ensued three days of 

primitive shoemaking. As may be inferred, the 
shoes made no pretension to style. I sewed the 
short seams at the sides and split the pegs from 
a section of seasoned maple. Rudely con- 
structed as these shoes were they bore their 
wearer triumphantly into the promised land. 

I restrained my eagerness to be going until 
Monday night, the time agreed upon, when, 
my disabled companion not putting in an ap- 
pearance, I set out for my old friend's in 
Casher's Valley. I got safely over a long 
wooden bridge within half a mile of a garri- 
soned town. I left the road, and turned, as I 
believed, away from the town, but I was abso- 
lutely lost in the darkness of a snow-storm, and 
forced to seek counsel as well as shelter. In 
this plight I pressed on towards a light, glim- 
mering faintly through the blinding snow. It 
led me into the shelter of the porch to a small 
brown house, cut deeply beneath the low eaves 
and protected at the sides by flanking bed- 
rooms. My knock was answered by a girlish 
voice, and from the ensuing parley, through 
the closed door, I learned that she was the 
daughter of a Baptist exhorter, and that she 
was alone in the house, her brother away at 
the village, and her father, having preached 
the day before at some distance, was not ex- 
pected home until the next morning. Reas.- 
sured by my civil-toned inquiries about the 
road, she unfastened the door and came out 
to the porch, where she proceeded to instruct 
me how to go on, which was just the thing 
I least desired to do. By this time I had dis- 
covered the political complexion of the family, 
and, making myself known, was instantly 
invited in, with the assurance that her father 
would be gravely displeased if she permitted 
me to go on before he returned. I had inter- 
rupted my little benefactress in the act of 
writing a letter, on a sheet of foolscap, which 
lay on / an old-fashioned stand in one corner 
of the room beside the ink-bottle and the 
candlestick. In the diagonal corner stood a 
tall bookcase, the crowded volumes nestling 
lovingly behind the glass doors — the only col- 
lection of the sort that I saw at anytime in the 
mountains. A feather-bed was spread upon 
the floor, the head raised by means of a turned- 
down chair, and here I was reposing comfort- 
ably when the brother arrived. It was late 
in the forenoon when the minister reached 
home, his rickety wagon creaking through the 
snow, and drawn at a snail's pace by a long- 
furred, knock-kneed horse. The tall but not 
very clerical figure was wrapped in a shawl and 
swathed round the throat with many turns of 
a woolen tippet. The daughter ran out with 
eagerness to greet her father and tell of the 
wonderful arrival. I was received with genuine 
delight. It was the enthusiasm of a patriot, 



-eager to find a sympathetic ear for his long- the morning, intending to put me in the corn- 
repressed views. 1 pany of a man who was going towards Cash- 
When night came and no entreaties could er's Valley on a hunting expedition. When 
prevail to detain me over another day, the we reached his house, however, the hunter had 
minister conducted me some distance in per- gone \ so, after parting with my guide, I set for- 
son, passing me on with ample directions to ward through the woods, following the tracks 
another exhorter, who was located for that of the hunter's horse. The shoe-prints were 


night at the house of a miller who kept a fero- 
cious dog. I came first to the pond and then 
to the mill, and got into the house without en- 
countering the dog. Aware of the necessity of 
arriving before bedtime, I had made such speed 
as to find the miller's family still lingering about 
the fireplace with preacher number two seated 
in the lay circle. That night I slept with the 
parson, who sat up in bed in the morning, 
and after disencumbering himself of a striped 
extinguisher nightcap electrified the other 
sleepers by announcing that this was the first 
time he had ever slept with a Yankee. After 
breakfast the parson, armed with staff and 
scrip, signified his purpose to walk with me 
during the day, as it was no longer dangerous 
to move by daylight. We must have been 
traveling the regular Baptist road, for we lodged 
that night at the house of another lay brother. 
The minister continued with me a few miles in 

1 The Rev. James H. Duckworth, now postmaster 
of Brevard, Transylvania County, North Carolina, and 
in 1868 member of the State Constitutional Convention, 
in his letter of June 24, 1890, says : " I have not for- 
gotten those things of which you speak. I can almost 
see you (even in imagination) standing at the fire when 
I drove up to the gate and went into the house and 
Vol. XL. — 125. 

sometimes plainly impressed in the snow, and 
again for long distances over dry leaves and 
bare ground, but an occasional trace could be 
found. It was past noon when I arrived at the 
house where the hunters were assembled. 
Quite a number of men were gathered in and 
about the porch, just returned from the chase. 
Blinded by the snow over which I had been 
walking in the glare of the sun, I blundered 
up the steps, inquiring without much tact for 
the rider who had preceded me, and was no 
little alarmed at receiving a rude and gruff re- 
ception. I continued in suspense for some time 
until my man found an opportunity to inform 
me that there were suspicious persons present, 
thus accounting for his unexpected manner. 
The explanation was made at a combination 
meal, serving for both dinner and supper, and 
consisting exclusively of beans. I set out at 
twilight to make a walk of thirteen miles to 

asked you, * Have I ever seen you before ? ' Just 
then I observed your uniform. 'Oh, yes,' said I; 'I 
know who it is now.' . . . This daughter of whom 
you speak married about a year after, and is living in 
Morgantown, North Carolina, about one hundred 
miles from here. Hattie (for that is her name) is a 
pious, religious woman." 



the house of our old friend Esquire Hooper. 
Eager for the cordial welcome which I knew 
awaited me, and nerved by the frosty air, I sped 
over the level wood-road, much of the way run- 
ning instead of walking. Three times I came 
upon bends of the same broad rivulet. Taking 
off my shoes and stockings and rolling up my 
trousers above my knees, I tried the first pas- 
sage. Flakes of broken ice were eddying against 
the banks, and before gaining the middle of 
the stream my feet and ankles ached with the 
cold, the sharp pain increasing at every step 
until I threw my blanket on the opposite bank 
and springing upon it wrapped my feet in its 
dry folds. Rising a little knoll soon after mak- 
ing the third ford, I came suddenly upon the 
familiar stopping-place of my former journey. 
It was scarcely more than nine o'clock, and the 
little hardships of the journey from Caesar's 
Head seemed but a cheap outlay for the joy 
of the meeting with friends so interested in the 
varied fortunes of myself and my late com- 
panions. Together we rejoiced at the escape 
of Sill and Lamson, and made merry over the 
vicissitudes of my checkered career. Here I 
first learned of the safe arrival in Tennessee of 
Knapp, Man Heady, and Old Tom Handcock. 
After a day's rest I climbed the mountains 
to the Headen cabin, now presided over by 
the heroine of the heifer bell in the absence 
of her fugitive husband. Saddling her horse, 
she took me the next evening to join a lad 

who was about starting for Shooting Creek. 
Young Green was awaiting my arrival, and 
after a brief delay we were off on a journey 
of something like sixty miles; the journey, 
however, was pushed to a successful termina- 
tion by the help of information gleaned by the 
way. It was at the close of the last night's 
march, which had been long and uneventful, 
except that we had surmounted no fewer than 
three snow-capped ridges, that my black- 
smith's shoes, soaked to a pulp by the wet snow, 
gave out altogether. On the top of the last 
ridge I found myself panting in the yellow 
light of the rising sun, the sad wrecks of my 
two shoes dangling from my hands, a wilderness 
of beauty spread out before me, and a spark- 
ling field of frosty forms beneath my tingling 
feet. Stretching far into the west towards the 
open country of East Tennessee was the lim- 
itless wilderness of mountains drawn like 
mighty furrows across the toilsome way, the 
pale blue of the uttermost ridges fading into 
an imperceptible union with the sky. A log 
house was in sight down in the valley, a per- 
pendicular column of smoke rising from its 
single chimney. Towards this we picked our 
way, I in my stocking feet, and my boy guide 
confidently predicting that we should find the 
required cobbler. Of course we found him in 
a country where every family makes its own 
shoes as much as its own bread, and he was 
ready to serve the traveler without pay. Not- 





withstanding our night's work, we tarried no 
longer than for the necessary repairs, and just 
before sunset we looked down upon the scat- 
tering settlement of Shooting Creek. Standing 
on the bleak brow of " Chunky Gall " Moun- 
tain, my guide recognized the first familiar 
object on the trip, which was the roof of his 
uncle's house. At Shooting Creek I was the 
guest of the Widow Kitchen, whose house was 
the principal one in the settlement and whose 
estate boasted two slaves. The husband had 
fallen by an anonymous bullet while salting his 
cattle on the mountain in an early year of the war. 

On the day following my arrival I was con- 
ducted over a ridge to another creek, where I 
met two professional guides, Quince Edmon- 
ston and Mack Hooper. As I came upon the 
pair parting a thicket of laurel, with their long 
rifles at a shoulder, I instantly recognized the 
coat of the latter as the snuff- colored sack in 
which I had last seen Lieutenant Lamson. 
It had been given to the man at Chattanooga, 
where these same guides had conducted my 
former companions in safety a month before. 
Quince Edmonston, the elder, had led nu- 
merous parties of Yankee officers over the Wa- 
cheesa trail for a consideration of a hundred 
dollars, pledged to be paid by each officer at 
Chattanooga or Nashville. 

Two other officers were concealed near by, 
and a number of refugees, awaiting a convoy, 
and an arrangement was rapidly made with 

the guides. The swollen condition of the Val- 
ley River made it necessary to remain for sev- 
eral days at Shooting Creek before setting out. 
Mack and I were staying at the house of Mrs. 
Kitchen. It was on the afternoon of a mem- 
orable Friday, the rain still falling in torrents 
without, that I sat before the fire poring over 
a small Sunday-school book ; the only printed 
book in the house, if not in the settlement. 
Mack Hooper was sitting by the door. At- 
tracted by a rustling sound in his direction, I 
looked up just in time to see his heels disap- 
pearing under the nearest bed. Leaping to my 
feet with an instinctive impulse to do likewise, 
I was confronted in the doorway by a stalwart 
Confederate officer fully uniformed and armed. 
Behind him was his quartermaster sergeant. 
This was a Government party collecting the 
tax-in-kind, which at that time throughout the 
Confederacy was the tenth part of all crops 
and other farm productions. It was an ugly 
surprise. Seeing no escape, I ventured a re- 
mark on the weather; only a stare in reply. 
A plan of escape flashed through my mind 
like an inspiration. I seated myself quietly, 
and for an instant bent my eyes upon the 
printed pages. The two soldiers had advanced 
to the corner of the chimney nearest the door, 
inquiring for the head of the family and keep- 
ing their eyes riveted on my hostile uniform. 
At this juncture I was seized with a severe fit 
of coughing. With one hand upon my chest, 



I walked slowly past the men, and laid my 
carefully opened book face down upon a chest. 
With another step or two I was in the porch, 
and bounding into the kitchen I sprang out 
through a window already opened by the 
women for my exit. Away I sped bareheaded 
through the pelting rain, now crashing through 
thick underbrush, and now to my waist in 
swollen streams, plunging on and on, only 
mindful to select a course that would baffle 
horsemen in pursuit. After some miles of run- 
ning I took cover behind a stack, within view 
of the road which Mack must take in retreat- 
ing to the other settlement ; and sure enough 
here he was, coming down the road with my 
cap and haversack, which was already loaded 
for the western journey. Mack had remained 
undiscovered under the bed, an interested lis- 
tener to the conversation that ensued. The 
officer had been assured that I was a friendly 
scout; but convinced of the contrary by my 
flight, he had departed swearing he would cap- 
ture that Yankee before morning if he had to 
search the whole settlement. So alarmed were 
we for our safety that we crossed that night 
into a third valley and slept in the loft of a 

On Sunday our expedition assembled on a 
hillside overlooking Snooting Creek, where our 
friends in the secret of the movement came 
up to bid us adieu. With guides we were a 
party of thirteen or fourteen, but only three of us 
officers who were to pay for our safe conduct. 
Each man carried his supply of bread and 
meat and bedding. Some were wrapped in 
faded bedquilts and some in tattered army 
blankets ; nearly all wore ragged clothes, 
broken shoes, and had unkempt beards. We 
arrived upon a mountain side overlooking the 
settlement of Peach Tree, and were awaiting 
the friendly shades of night under which to 
descend to the house of the man who was to 
put us across Valley River. Premature darkness 
was accompanied with torrents of rain, through 
which we followed our now uncertain guides. 
At last the light of the cabin we were seeking 
gleamed humidly through the trees. Most of 
the family fled into the outhouses at our ap- 
proach, some of them not reappearing until 
we were disposed for sleep in a half-circle be- 
fore the fire. The last arrival were two tall 
women in homespun dresses and calico sun- 
bonnets. They slid timidly in at the door, 
with averted faces, and then with a rush and 




a bounce covered themselves out of sight in a 
bed, where they had probably been sleeping 
in the same clothing when we approached the 
house. Here we learned that a cavalcade of 
four hundred Texan Rangers had advanced 
into Tennessee by the roads on the day before. 
Our guides, familiar with the movements of 
these dreaded troopers, calculated that with the 
day's delay enforced by the state of the river a 
blow would have been struck and the maraud- 
ers would be in full retreat before we should 
arrive on the ground. We passed that day con- 
cealed in a stable, and as soon as it was suffi- 
ciently dark we proceeded in a body to the 
bank of the river attended by a man and a horse. 
The stream was narrow, but the current was 
full and swift. The horse breasted the flood 
with difficulty, but he bore us all across one at 
a time, seated behind the farmer. 

We had now left behind us the last settle- 
ment, and before us lay only wild and unin- 
habited mountains. The trail we traveled was an 
Indian path extending for nearly seventy miles 
through an uninhabited wilderness. Instead 
of crossing the ridges it follows the trend of the 
range, winding for the most part along the 
crests of the divides. The occasional traveler 
having once mounted to its level pursues his 
solitary way with little climbing. 

Early in the morning of the fourth day our 
little party was assembled upon the last moun- 
tain overlooking the open country of East 
Tennessee. Some of us had been wandering 
in the mountains for the whole winter. We 
were returning to a half-forgotten world of 
farms and fences, roads and railways. Below 
us stretched the Tellico River away towards 
the line of towns marking the course of the 
Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad. One of 
the guides who had ventured down to the 
nearest house returned with information that 
the four hundred Texan Rangers had burned 
the depot at Philadelphia Station the day be- 
fore, but were now thought to be out of the 
country. We could see the distant smoke aris- 
ing from the ruins. Where the river flowed out 
of the mountains were extensive iron-works, 
the property of a loyal citizen, and in front of 
his house we halted for consultation. He re- 
gretted that we had shown ourselves so soon, 
as the rear guard of the marauders had passed 
the night within sight of where we now stood. 
Our nearest pickets were at Loudon, thirty 
miles distant on the railway, and for this sta- 
tion we were advised to make all speed. 

For half a mile the road ran along the bank 

of the river and then turned around a wooded 
bluff to the right. Opposite to this bluff and 
accessible by a shallow ford was another hill, 
where it was feared that some of the Rangers 
were still lingering about their camp. As we 
came to the turn in the road our company was 
walking rapidly in Indian file, guide Edmon- 
ston and I at the front. Coming around the 
bluff from the opposite direction was a coun- 
tryman mounted on a powerful gray mare. 
His overcoat was army blue, but he wore a 
bristling fur cap, and his rifle was slung on his 
back. At sight of us he turned in his saddle 
to shout to some one behind, and bringing his 
gun to bear came tearing and swearing down 
the road, spattering the gravel under the big 
hoofs of the gray. Close at his heels rode two 
officers in Confederate gray uniforms, and a 
motley crowd of riders closed up the road be- 
hind. In an instant the guide and I were sur- 
rounded, the whole cavalcade leveling their 
guns at the thicket and calling on our com- 
panions to halt, who could be plainly heard 
crashing through the bushes. The dress of 
but few of our captors could be seen, nearly 
all being covered with rubber talmas, but their 
mounts, including mules as well as horses, 
were equipped with every variety of bridle 
and saddle to be imagined. I knew at a 
glance that this was no body of our cavalry. 
If we were in the hands of the Rangers the 
fate of the guides and refugees would be the 
hardest. I thought they might spare the lives 
of the officers. " Who are you ? What are 
you doing here ? " demanded the commander, 
riding up to us and scrutinizing our rags. I 
hesitated a moment, and then, throwing off the 
blanket I wore over my shoulders, simply said, 
" You can see what I am." My rags were the 
rags of a uniform, and spoke for themselves. 

Our captors proved to be a company of the 
2d Ohio Heavy Artillery, in pursuit of the ma- 
rauders into whose clutches we thought we had 
fallen. The farmer on the gray mare was the 
guide of the expedition, and the two men uni- 
formed as rebel officers were Union scouts. 
The irregular equipment of the animals, which 
had excited my suspicion most, as well as the 
animals themselves, had been hastily impressed 
from the country about the village of Loudon, 
where the 2d Ohio was stationed. On the fol- 
lowing evening, which was the 4th of March, 
the day of the second inauguration of President 
Lincoln, we walked into Loudon and gladly 
surrendered ourselves to the outposts of the 
Ohio Heavy Artillery. 

W. H. Shelton. 

Vol. XL.— 126. 


Partisan Recognition of the Independent Voter. 

OF late years attention has been directed to a class 
of voters supposed to be unique. Party and parti- 
san considerations have been so engrossing that the 
Independent Voter has seemed to the popular mind 
a new development Investigation will prove, how- 
ever, that the independent voter has been abroad from 
the earliest days of the Republic ; that he is the natu- 
ral product of free institutions and universal suffrage ; 
and that his power has been felt with effect long be- 
fore he was given a distinctive name. 

A review of the course of party history ought to 
convince even the most bitter partisan that every party, 
whether in nation or state, has appealed to the inde- 
pendent voter for his support, and that party suprem- 
acy has generally been decided by this vote. By the 
independent voter we mean not only the voter who 
avows no party allegiance whatever, but also the 
thoughtful citizen who, while believing in parties as 
means of effective political action, still holds principle 
above the shibboleths of political nomenclature, and 
will bravely follow his convictions across the lines of 
partisan organization. 

Our political history naturally divides itself into pe- 
riods when important or vital issues have come up for 
settlement. Most of these have been of local or tem- 
porary interest. No single question has divided parties 
from the beginning, in 1787, down to the present. It 
is often asserted that some of the issues of Washing- 
ton's or Jefferson's time still remain unsettled. But 
this is not true. Not one of these has remained with- 
out question the peculiar property of the various parties 
that have succeeded each other, and whose adherents 
at different periods and for different reasons have 
ranged themselves on one side or the other of the tariff 
question, the States' rights question, or the question 
of strengthening the national authority. The interests 
of persons or of sections have shifted from time to time, 
and have demanded a changed interpretation. 

Besides, such issues have never presented the same 
face at different periods. So, while it is common to re- 
fer all our divergences of party opinion to these ques- 
tions, the truth is, this has been a forced construction. 
Most of the temporary issues which have been settled 
in one way or another had only the remotest relation 
to rival fiscal theories, or to States' rights, or to cen- 
tralization. In truth, these principles, supposed to lie 
at the basis of all the politics we have, and to be the 
cause of party division, have been lost sight of so 
constantly that men have often been compelled to cross 
party lines in order to find congenial associations or 
sympathy for their peculiar opinions. 

The Federal party, organized as the bulwark of the 
Constitution, afforded the independent voter an oppor- 
tunity to exercise his privilege. When the necessity of 
giving up the Confederation became apparent, public 
sentiment was far from being unanimous in favor of 
the proposed grant of power by the States to the Fed- 
eral Government. As a majority could not be com- 

manded, there was nothing to ao but win it by appeal 
to the country. If the Federalists had refused to ask 
for aid, or to accept it when tendered, they could never 
have created a sentiment in favor of the Constitution, 
which, even with this assistance, was neither adopted 
nor ratified without a contest. Its friends did not hesi- 
tate to make their appeal to the people, and it is no- 
where recorded that they asked any questions about 
the former opinions or affiliations of their converts. 
They not only used arguments, but they invoked aid 
in the names of Washington and the fathers of the 
Republic then living. They won, because they were 
able to get the support, not of their own followers or 
sympathizers alone, but of the independent voters of 
that day ; and in doing this they created a precedent 
since followed. 

In due time the influences that had surrounded 
Washington and the founders were no longer potent. 
The fortunes of the party were intrusted to leaders 
who lived in the past, or used their power unwisely, or 
put undue confidence in the affection and credulity of 
their followers. So a new appeal was made. The Re- 
publican or Jeffersonian party did not trust to its own 
resources, or give the least hint of an intention to 
drive voters away because of any previous differences 
of opinion ; on the contrary, it asked patriotic, think- 
ing, and independent men to come over and help it. 
Enough of them did so not only to give it the power 
and responsibility of the government, but to send a once 
victorious party to death and oblivion. 

The independent voter was again appealed to during 
our second war with Great Britain, after Jefferson and 
Madison, by vacillation or mistake, had to some extent 
forfeited the united support of their own party follow- 
ers. Especially in the Middle and Southern States 
the remnants of their old opponents, the Federalists, 
then came to the support of Madison during his second 
term, and thus created a public sentiment which not 
only carried the war to a successful conclusion, but 
completed the enfranchisement of the country. The 
remainder of the Jeffersonian regime — the eight years 
of Monroe — is the history of commonplace, or of 
drifting with the tide, only to be followed by the four 
years of John Quincy Adams, too brief and unsub- 
stantial greatly to impress the country. 

The popular impression seems to be that the Jack- 
son period was a purely partisan one. Filled as his 
administration was with things to be criticized, it 
must be admitted that voters were attracted to the 
man who could formulate a decided policy and carry 
it out with courage and perseverance. Owing partly 
to the fact that he was fiercely challenged, he could 
command for himself the most loyal support ever given 
a President of the United States, and bequeathed his 
power to his chosen successor unimpaired. 

But General Jackson was not without rivals in his 
appeal for general or independent support. The great 
Whig leaders of that day, by ability and character, 
drew to themselves and their party thousands of the 
former supporters of Jackson and his party. These 



men had not only their own strong personalities, but 
they conjured in the name of the American system, 
internal improvements, and the enlargement of the 
powers of government, all of which were potent to 
fascinate. So in that time, as in others of activity, or 
passion, or strong leadership, the independent voter 
was compelled to give heed to the demands and the 
promises of a vigorous partisan. 

The next period of interest to show the value of the 
independent voter may be termed the era of national 
expansion. Great personalities had disappeared or 
lost their power and influence, and great national 
policies were to be settled. This was the period from 
1845 to i860, when the admission of Texas, the Mexi- 
can war, the discovery of gold in California, Manifest 
Destiny, fiscal reform, and industrial development 
became engrossing. It was during this time that the 
abolition of slavery, a great moral question, competed 
with questions of purely material import for the sup- 
port of the independent voter. This competition 
broke down or reconstructed party lines, and carried 
even leading men from the ranks of one party into 
those of the other. At no period in our history has 
party discipline been more severe, and yet there has 
been none when men of intelligence and independence 
broke away from these trammels in greater numbers, 
or responded with more zeal and alacrity to the appeals 
made to them. 

The Lincoln period, or the era of national preserva- 
tion, gave the independent voter a golden opportu- 
nity. A President elected by the votes of less than 
two-fifths of the people was dependent for the success 
of his administration upon men who had voted against 
him and his party. He was able to command support 
from these voters, not because he bought it with 
offices, or gave pensions to them or the class they 
represented, or recommended large appropriations for 
rivers and harbors or public buildings. He gained 
them because he represented the conscience of the 
country, because he stood for its preservation and 
safety. When the crisis had passed, many who had 
come to his assistance returned to their old allegiance. 
They had done their work as independent voters, and 
having supported a cause deemed it their duty to renew 
their old associations. 

It was not until the last two periods mentioned that 
the party platform came to have its modern authority. 
Appeal was made to the intelligence or independence 
of voters upon the action of parties in Congress and 
the utterances of leaders. About the time that the 
slavery question began to project itself into discus- 
sion the distinctive declaration of principles became 
more and more important. It is interesting to note 
how the great political parties which between them 
have divided the allegiance of Americans for more 
than a generation have appealed to the independent 
voter. Putting entirely out of the accouiat those third 
party movements which have caused many voters to 
break away from did attachments, it will be found that 
existing political organizations, instead of contemning 
the voter with real independence, have at all times, 
in both national and State conventions, vied with each 
other in asking his help. 

The National Democratic Convention held in Balti- 
more in 1848 nominated Lewis Cass as its candidate 
for President, and declared that it placed its trust " in 

the intelligence, the patriotism, and the discriminating 
justice of the American people." In 1856, when the 
convention was held at Cincinnati, James Buchanan 
was nominated as its candidate, and it made its appeal 
anew in the same language. 

The Republicans at their first national convention, 
in 1856, nominated the late General Fremont as their 
candidate, and in their platform invited " the affiliation 
and cooperation of the men of all politics, however dif- 
fering from us in other respects, in support of the 
principles herein declared." The convention of i860, 
by which Abraham Lincoln was nominated, made its 
declaration of principles and invited " the cooperation 
of all citizens, however differing on other questions, who 
substantially agree with us in their affirmance and 

In 1868, when the issues of the war period were 
still unsettled, the Democrats in national convention 
appealed to patriots and conservative men for their 
support, and declared that " to all such, to whatever 
party they may have heretofore belonged, we extend the 
right hand of fellowship, and hail all such, cooperating 
with us, as friends and brethren." 

The Liberal Republican Convention of 1872 invited 
and cordially welcomed " the cooperation of all pa- 
triotic citizens, without regard to previous political 

In 1876 the Democrats emphasized the urgent need 
of reform, and in order to secure it appealed to their 
" fellow-citizens of every former political connection " to 
undertake with them this duty. 

In 1880 the Greenbackers asked the " cooperation 
of all fair-minded people," and the Prohibitionists in 
national convention in the same year invited "all 
voters, without regard to former party affiliations, to 
unite with us in the use of the ballot for the aboli- 
tion of the drinking system." 

The Democrats in 1884 declared that "the great 
issue of reform and change is submitted to the people 
in calm confidence that the popular voice will pronounce 
in favor of new men and new and more favorable con- 
ditions for the growth of industry, the extension of 
trade, the employment and due reward of labor and 
capital, and the general welfare of the whole country." 

In 1888 the Democratic party submitted "its prin- 
ciples and professions to the intelligent suffrages of 
the American people." In the same presidential can- 
vass the Republicans invited " the cooperation of patri- 
otic men of all parties." 

Not only has appeal been made to the independent 
voter in the platforms, but he has been invited in the 
formal calls for these conventions. In 1876, 1880, 
and 1884 the National Democratic Committee asked 
all " Democratic, conservative, and other citizens of 
the United States, irrespective of past political associa- 
tions, ... to join in sending delegates to the na- 
tional convention." 

But if such appeals have been made by the national 
representatives of the parties, those in the States have 
been even more solicitous to gain independent sup- 
port. This is due to the fact not only that political 
initiative must begin in State conventions, but that, 
in addition to questions of national policy, those of 
State interest must be considered and settled there. 
In many cases a party finds that the policy of its lead- 
ers on a given local or State issue has had a tendency 

95 2 


to imperil its success in what are generally deemed the 
more important questions of national policy ; and in 
order to overcome this defection it must draw votes 
from other elements. 

The appeal to the independent voter, which has 
been answered so emphatically during late years, had 
its first open development just after the close of the 
presidential canvass of 1872, when the war issues be- 
gan to pall on the public mind. The party then in 
power had been forced to meet an open revolt, in 
which many of its ablest and best men had taken 
part. It had succeeded in overcoming this and had 
barely escaped defeat. Even this was due to the re- 
fusal of a large number of men in the Democratic 
party to cast their votes for a lifelong opponent. But 
it had scarcely won the victory when its leaders in 
many States recognized that it could not long maintain 
power unless it corrected the abuses which had de- 
veloped within it. In order to do this it became both 
necessary and desirable to bring back to its ranks the 
men who had deserted it. No effort was made to do 
this by subjecting them to severe criticism, or by re- 
fusing them recognition. Just the opposite policy was 
adopted, and what was known as " reform within the 
party " was attempted. Once begun, this movement 
soon extended to both parties, and the highest pro- 
fessions of morality became the fashion in party plat- 
forms at State conventions. 

The credit of beginning this movement must be 
given to the Republicans of Connecticut, under the 
leadership of Joseph R. Hawley, now a United States 
senator. On February 5, 1873, they incorporated in 
their platform the following sweeping condemnation 
of their own party : 

We denounce corruption of men of all parties in high 
places. We have no apology for those of our own, but 
desire the fullest investigation and demand the punish- 
ment of the guilty, conscious that the Republican party 
is strong enough to purify its own ranks, that it cannot 
be strong if it neglects its duty in this respect, and that 
it can only continue to commend itself to the confidence 
of the country by purging itself of unworthy elements. 

The Republicans of Ohio followed on May 21, with 
the sweeping declaration : " We demand pure offi- 
cial conduct, and the punishment of unfaithful pub- 
lic men, State and national, who, having betrayed the 
confidence freely extended to them, shall not be 
shielded from the disgrace of their acts by any parti- 
sanship of ours." And the Republicans of Minnesota, 
two months later, adopted as their own the same 

On June 25 the Republicans of Iowa went a step 
beyond their brethren in other States, and announced 
that, " to make an end to bad men forcing their elec- 
tions by securing a party nomination, we declare it the 
duty of every Republican to oppose the election of a 
bad and incompetent candidate, whether he be a can- 
didate upon our own or upon any other ticket." 

The Democrats, not to be outdone by their op- 
ponents, adopted the same policy. It first found ex- 
pression in the West. On July 30, 1873, the Democrats 
of Ohio came together in convention, in response to a 
call issued by the Democrats of Allen County. Among 
the declarations of party doctrine was the following : 
" We declare against the infallibility of party, and 
that when the caucus or the convention fails to present 

fit candidates for office it is the high privilege, as well 
as the bounden duty, of all good citizens to withhold 
their votes from such candidates, and, regardless of 
party affiliations, to support the best men presented 
for official position." 

This had a decided effect upon the regular organiza- 
tion, which, in its convention on August 6th, resolved, 
" We earnestly appeal to the patriotic men of every 
class, without regard to party names or past differences, 
to unite with us on terms of perfect equality, in the 
struggle to rescue the Government from the hands of 
dishonest men." The Democrats of Maine and Penn- 
sylvania adopted this sentiment as expressive of their 

The Democrats of Maryland, then, as now, in power 
in their State, pledged themselves to " a careful scru- 
tiny of official conduct, and the prompt and vigorous 
punishment of all official delinquencies." The Demo- 
crats of Iowa declared, " We will not knowingly nom- 
inate any bad man to office, . . . and will at the polls 
repudiate any candidate known to be unfit or incom- 
petent." In Massachusetts the Democrats resolved, 
" We invite the cooperation and welcome to full fel- 
lowship in political action all patriotic citizens who 
agree with us in these principles." 

The habit of appealing directly to the conscientious 
and independent voter was not dropped. In nearly 
every State, South as well as North, he was made to know 
his own power. The Democrats of New York in 1875 
again invited " the cooperation of every true Demo- 
crat, every Liberal Republican, and all our fellow-citi- 
zens, of whatever party name." The Republicans of the 
same State in their convention to choose delegates to 
the national convention of 1876 asked everybody to 
unite with them in carrying out their declared pur- 
poses. In the same year the Democrats of South 
Carolina resolved, " We call upon all patriot sons of 
South Carolina to join us " ; and in the following year 
the representatives of the same party in Mississippi 
declared, " We invite the cooperation of citizens, 
without regard to past differences, in support of the 
candidates nominated by this convention." The Mas- 
sachusetts Democrats appealed to " all good citizens, 
regardless of their politics or party associations ",• w T hile 
the New York Republicans issued a summons to " all 
good citizens " to unite with them. 

In 1878 the Democrats of Connecticut asked the 
support of "all voters," and those of Massachusetts 
called upon "all citizens, of whatever political views" 
to unite with them. In 1879 the Maryland Democrats, 
after commending their ticket to their own followers, 
asked the "approval of all other good citizens." In 
1882, when, after many years of exclusion from power, 
the Democrats of Pennsylvania elected their State 
ticket, they did so after having formally invited "the 
cooperation of all honest citizens." 

It is not necessary to quote further from party ut- 
terances to show that the independent voters have not 
come unbidden to the political feast. Their course 
needs no defense. At many a crisis in the politics of 
the separate States and of the United States these same 
voters, the men who have refused slavishly to follow 
corrupt or designing party leaders, have proved them- 
selves the saving power. 

Whenever the dominance of a party depended merely 
upon the momentum given it by some great leader, or 



attachment to some great principle, formulated under 
past conditions, then a large and influential body of 
voters have been ready for independent political action. 
vSo long as parties have remained intelligent as well as 
active and aggressive, they have been able to divide 
the allegiance of thoughtful and unselfish voters ; but 
when an earnest and living patriotism in one party has 
been met by supineness or trust in party traditions 
in the other, the independent voter has uniformly dis- 
turbed the balance of politics. It is this, universally 
recognized above all the clamor of partisans, though 
not always confessed, that has made ours the most 
conservative government in the world. 

A Test of Good Citizenship. 

The people of New York are so used to having their 
city elections and their city government run for them by 
groups of interested persons ; they are so accustomed 
to the expert rule of the Bosses and the Boys, that it 
affords a good deal of amusement, even outside of the 
Boys themselves, when a company of reputable citi- 
zens go to work, in an entirely disinterested spirit, 
to try to get fit men elected and appointed to the public 
offices — in other words, to rescue the city govern- 
ment from private to public uses. 

" Reformers " are always sneered at by the profes- 
sional politicians and their friends (and sometimes by 
people who would not like to be classed among the 
"friends "of the Boys) as nothing but " amateurs "; 
somewhat as if an honest citizen called upon to defend 
his house against a burglar should be gibed at by the 
burglar as nothing but an " amateur " who ought to 
be sleeping quietly in his bed, and not thus clum- 
sily interfering with the accomplished industry of 
" professionals." 

It may be suspected that neither the ridicule nor the 
mirth of the professional politician, and of his jour- 
nalistic, business, or social partner, is quite as self- 
comforting and hilarious as it seems ; for though the 
cynic is always underestimating the virtue inherent 
in the individual and in the community, he yet occa- 
sionally has an unexpected lesson as to the weight of 
the kick of that mysterious beast Public Opinion, and 
thus a thread of anxiety is often woven in the warp of 
his happy humor. 

The gibing cynic with his sense of humor is, more- 
over, quite apt to underestimate the sense of humor 
of others. Indeed, the reformer himself may be pos- 
sessed of quite as much of this saving sense as his 
critic ; and then the public, too, have a funny-bone which 
if struck by the Boy, or the Boss, may result in sudden 
and terrible disaster to the striker. There is no more 
" practical " element in a campaign than the deadly 
humor of the cartoonist — and there is a humorous as- 
pect to such " rings " as those which have at various 
times possessed our city government, which the car- 
toonist and the newspaper wit have brought out with 
tremendous effect. 

At the time of writing this the programme of the 
People's Municipal League of New York has not been 
fully announced, but it would seem probable that 
every voter in the city will be forced at the next 
municipal election to a test of his public spirit, and 
often of his moral courage. The rogues alone could 
never debauch our city, State, or national politics ; 
they get their opportunity and power through the 
Vol. XL. — 127. 

weak acquiescence of " respectable " citizens. So if 
the government of New York remains, as now, largely 
in the hands of a sordid group who run it for what 
they can make out of it, it will be by the action of men 
who claim to be " good citizens," but who are, in 
point of fact, the efficient allies of the most depraved 
elements of the community. We confess to more 
respect for the " toughs " who fight in politics only as 
they have been taught from youth up, than for their 
"gentlemen" allies who fear lest their own personal 
success may be interfered with should they seem to 
break with their party or party friends, or stand opposed 
to some influential ring, by voting on city affairs with- 
out regard to national issues. But until such voting 
is the rule in New York our municipal government 
will be a reproach to republican institutions. 

The Merit System in the Fifty-first Congress. 

Not since the passage of the Pendleton bill, in 1883, 
have there been such important legislative contests 
over the merit system of making appointments in the 
civil service as have just occurred in the first session 
of the present Congress. There are now nearly a hun- 
dred and fifty thousand offices in the gift of the Na- 
tional Government ; and under the old vicious spoils 
or patronage system there are, in whichever party is 
dominant for the time being, for every one such office 
at least three or four office-seekers, clamorously de- 
manding the reward of their political activity. In other 
words, there are half a million office-brokers and office- 
seekers, patronage-mongers and patronage-cravers, 
who are directly interested in breaking down and dis- 
crediting the merit system as the chief obstacle in 
their way. Taken as a whole, they believe that " the 
Decalogue and the Golden Rule have no place in poli- 
tics " — in other words, that lying, theft, and bribery 
are legitimate adjuncts of what ought to be the great 
and noble work of national self-government. They 
trust much to the indifference and apathy of the great 
mass of voters, whose interest in the maintenance of the 
reform legislation is merely that which all good citi- 
zens feel in seeing any just and righteous law upheld. 

This half-million or so of men who wish to treat 
the Government service as so much plunder are of 
course especially active when the administration at 
Washington is changed. It is at such a time that they 
are sure to make their chief efforts to overturn the 
law. Naturally, therefore, during the present session 
of Congress these adherents of the old spoils system 
— the self-seeking politicians, both on and off the 
floor, and their allies among the newspapers, together 
with all the honest men who were puzzle-headed, and 
all the men whose instincts inclined them to go wrong 
even when they had no interest in the matter — united 
to make a resolute push against the merit system. 
They had neither the power nor the courage to attempt 
an open repeal of the law ; and so they made their at- 
tack in two ways — they attempted to defeat the annual 
appropriation of money to carry the law into effect, 
and they attempted by charges as false as they were 
foolish to discredit the commissioners to whose hands 
its execution was intrusted. 

The battle was thus joined in the lower House of 
Congress. In both attacks the enemies of the merit 
system suffered complete defeat. They were beaten 



two to one in the fight over the appropriation bill; 
and they failed, utterly and ignominiously, to sustain 
their charges of corruption and wrong-doing when an 
investigation was ordered. Under the circumstances 
the composition of the House Committee on the Re- 
form of the Civil Service was of the utmost importance, 
and Speaker Reed deserves great credit for having 
made up an excellent committee, of whose members 
more than a working majority were stanch upholders 
of the law. Moreover, the cause was very fortunate in 
the standing and ability of the congressmen who were 
its especial champions in committee and on the floor. 

The Massachusetts and South Carolina members sup- 
ported the law and its administration with practical 
unanimity. The leading part in its defense was taken 
again and again by Mr. Henry Cabot Lodge of Massa- 
chusetts, who was the first to take the floor on its be- 
half, and to stem the tide which, at the moment, 
seemed to be flowing strongly against it. His col- 
leagues from the same State, Messrs. Greenhalge and 
Andrew, likewise gave it hearty support. That Mr. 
Dargan of South Carolina should be one of its fore- 
most champions was to be expected. 

To no one, however, is a greater debt due than to 
Mr. Butterworth of Ohio, his exceptional brilliancy as 
a debater, his parliamentary skill, and the high regard 
in which he is held by the entire House rendering 
him able to do invaluable service. Space does not per- 
mit the mention of the many others who stood up 
manfully for a clean and non-partisan system of gov- 
ernmental administration ; but particularly effective 
work must be credited to Mr. Bayne of Pennsylvania, 

Mr. Lehlbach of New Jersey, Mr. McKinley of Ohio, 
Mr. Henderson of Iowa, Mr. Hopkins of Illinois, Mr. 
Moore of New Hampshire, Mr. McComas of Maryland, 
Mr. Tracey of New York, Mr. Blount of Georgia, Mr. 
Boatner of Louisiana, and Mr. Dockery of Missouri. 

The defenders of the merit system on the floor of 
Congress represented in their attitude on this question 
both the virtue and the common sense of the country. 
The spoils system is as absurd and unreasonable as it 
is demoralizing. As Mr. Lodge ably shows in his 
Century article, it really has no right to exist in a 
free country. Personally, we cannot agree with every 
comment made by Mr. Lodge in his present article, 
but we think it contains one of the strongest, most 
spirited and convincing statements yet made in favor 
of the merit system and in opposition to the system 
of spoils ; which he clearly proves to be " a system 
born of despotisms and aristocracies," "a system of 
favoritism and nepotism, of political influence and per- 
sonal intrigue," and "as un-American as anything 
could well be." 

The remarks of this Republican leader are most in- 
terestingly supplemented by the Open Letter by the 
Democratic member of the United States Civil Service 
Commission, the Hon. Hugh S. Thompson of South 
Carolina, who was twice governor of that State, and 
who was Assistant Secretary of the Treasury under 
President Cleveland. Every disinterested citizen who 
reads these powerful pleas for fair play and business- 
like dealing in connection with our public service will 
wish to put his shoulder to the wheel and push forward 
the reform to its utmost limit. 


The Merit System. 


THE civil service, as the expression is now generally 
used, is taken to mean that portion of the public 
service to which entrance is obtained under the pro- 
visions of "An act to regulate and improve the civil 
service of the United States," which was approved 
January 16, 1883. 

This use of the term civil service is misleading. All 
branches of the Government except the military and the 
naval service are in the civil service, without regard to 
whether appointments in them are filled under the pa- 
tronage system or the examination system. The proper 
term to designate the latter is the merit system. The 
service covered by this system includes all places in the 
classified civil service — about thirty thousand in number 
— to which admission is obtained through examinations 
intended to test the merits of applicants regardless of 
their personal or political influence. This service now 
embraces the ordinary clerkships in the departments at 
Washington, in eleven of the largest customs districts, 
in forty-five post-offices, and in the railway mail service. 

It is not proposed in this article to discuss the rela- 
tive merits of the patronage system and of the merit 
system. It may safely be assumed that whatever mod- 
ifications may be made in the merit system as it now 
exists its essential features will remain unchanged. It 

may suit the taste and temper of the opponents of the 
merit system to decry it and denounce it as un-Amer- 
ican ; but the people at large, who are more interested 
in the purity and efficiency of the public service than 
in the individuals who fill the offices, will rebuke sternly 
every attempt to return to the spoils system. Here- 
after no political party will dare enter a contest for 
the Presidency avowing as its purpose in the event of 
success^ to restore the patronage system, the inevitable 
tendency of which is to corrupt the public service. A 
distinguished opponent of the merit system said re- 
cently that his confidence in the members of the Cab- 
inet was such that he preferred to trust appointments 
to them rather than to have them made through the 
machinery of the Civil Service Commission. The fact 
is, however, that under the spoils system selections 
for appointment are made not by cabinet ministers, but 
by influential persons in sympathy politically with the 
party in power, and usually as a reward for zealous 
party services. It would be impossible for any mem- 
ber of the Cabinet to give the time and attention needed 
for the selection of his subordinates, even if the place- 
hunters and their friends permitted him to do so. A 
correct understanding of the merit system will contrib- 
ute to its growth, to the great benefit of the public 
service and therefore of the people of the country. A 
brief statement of the methods and of some of the re- 
sults of this system will, it is believed, be useful at this 



The Civil Service Commission is composed of three 
persons, appointed by the President by and with the 
advice and consent of the Senate, not more than two 
of whom shall be adherents of the same political party. 
The giving representation on the board to both polit- 
ical parties is a wise provision, intended to insure non- 
partisan action by the Commission. It is essential to 
the proper working of the merit system that the ex- 
aminations be fair and impartial as well as practical, 
so as to test the fitness of applicants for the work which 
will be required of them. There are three steps in the 
examination. First, the application, which must be in 
the handwriting of the applicant, giving in answer to 
carefully prepared questions a brief history of himself, 
accompanied by satisfactory evidence that he is a citi- 
zen of the State or Territory in which he claims resi- 
dence, and by certificates of persons residing in the same 
State or Territory as to his character and reputation. 
An applicant for the position of railway mail clerk 
must also file the certificate of a physician as to his phys- 
ical condition. The second step is the scholastic ex- 
amination, which is wholly in writing. Each applicant 
signs his examination papers with a number, and the 
name of any applicant who makes known his number 
before his papers are marked by the examiners is 
stricken from the rolls. The papers of all applicants 
are marked by a board of examiners composed of mem- 
bers of both political parties, the names of those who 
obtain eligible averages — seventy per cent. — being 
entered upon the register in the order of merit as shown 
by the marks. When vacancies occur in the classified 
service they are filled by promotion, or by selection 
from the eligible lists of the Commission. In the latter 
case, upon requisition of the appointing officer the 
names of the three persons standing highest upon the 
register from which certification is made are submitted 
to him from which to make a selection. From these 
names he must choose one, though he may, if the needs 
of the service require it, appoint all three. Each eligi- 
ble is entitled to three certifications during the period 
of his eligibility, that period being one year, except in 
certain special cases. The third step in the examina- 
tion is the probationary appointment, which forms the 
practical test of the fitness of the applicant. The officer 
under whom a probationer is serving is required to 
keep a record and to make a report of his punctuality, 
industry, habits, ability, and aptitude, and if the pro- 
bationer's conduct and capacity are satisfactory he 
receives absolute appointment at the close of his proba- 
tionary term, which is six months. No probationer can 
receive absolute appointment until all these require- 
ments have been complied with, but he may be dis- 
missed at any time if he should prove incompetent or 
his service is unsatisfactory. That the three steps thus 
described have been found in practice well adapted 
to testing the qualifications of applicants is shown by 
the fact that ninety-eight per cent, of the probationers 
certified by the Civil Service Commission have received 
absolute appointments. The utmost vigilance is exer- 
cised to prevent fraud in each step of the examination. 
The chances that fraud will be practiced successfully 
are very small, and are certainly no greater than in 
any other department of the Government in which im- 
portant transactions are made daily, based upon the 
confidence which superior officers must repose in their 
subordinates. Fraud in the examinations can rarely, if 

ever, be committed except by collusion between an ap- 
plicant and all the members of a board of examiners. 
These boards are composed of men carefully selected be- 
cause of special fitness for their work, whose character 
and qualifications furnish every guarantee that their 
duties will be discharged honestly and efficiently. Be- 
sides the well-devised checks against deception which 
the Commission and the examiners employ, there is an- 
other and a very strong one furnished by the applicants 
themselves, who will be quick to discern and ready to 
expose any wrong-doing by those with whom they 
compete. Between the vigilance of the examiners on 
the one hand and the jealous watchfulness of the candi- 
dates on the other, fraud will rarely escape detection. 

What has been said of the examinations refers spe- 
cially to those held at Washington. It does not apply 
equally to the examinations held at the custom-houses 
and post-offices. This arises not from fraud, but from 
the fact that it is not possible to select the members of 
the local examining boards with the same care as is 
exercised in choosing the central board at Washing- 
ton. The local boards are generally composed of 
clerks who, even if they have the ability and training, 
seldom have the time for the satisfactory performance 
of the duties of examiners. The remedy for this evil is 
to increase the clerical force of the Commission so as 
to permit the marking of all examination papers at 
Washington. In this way alone can accuracy and 
uniformity in marking the papers of applicants for po- 
sitions in custom-houses and post-offices 'be attained. 
This additional force would cost about $32,000 a year, 
an insignificant sum when compared with the impor- 
tance of the work. 

There is probably nothing in the merit system 
which gives its opponents more apparent concern than 
the character of the questions asked of applicants. On 
this subject no joke is too old to meet with hearty 
favor, no story too absurd to find willing believers. 
The constant aim of the Commission is to make the 
questions practical, and the best evidence that in this 
respect a good measure of success has been attained 
is found in the fact that the questions of which com- 
plaint is made generally have no existence except in 
the imagination of the complainants. In the Sixth 
Annual Report of the Civil Service Commission is a 
frank and fair statement of the character of the exami- 
nations, and a complete answer to those who charge 
that the questions used are not "practical." 

Exceptionally good opportunities for observation 
justify me in asserting that the following are among 
the benefits to the public service resulting from the 
merit system. 

(1) It has taken the appointment of about 30,000 
of the minor clerical positions out of politics. The 
appointing officer does not know who will be certified 
to him to fill vacancies, and therefore he can have no 
motive except the good of the service for making 

(2) It secures a fair distribution of appointments on 
the basis of population. Under the spoils system ap- 
pointments were made because of personal or political 
influence without regard to population. The unfair 
distribution of the offices now existing in the depart- 
ments at Washington is one of the evil results of the 
spoils system which the merit system was designed 
to correct, and which it is gradually correcting. 

95 6 


(3) It furnishes a better class of clerks, and conse- 
quently abetter public service. This is especially true 
of those branches of the service requiring technical 
skill and knowledge. 

The average age of those who pass the ordinary de- 
partmental examination is twenty-eight years. This 
fact is the best answer to the oft-repeated assertion 
that the examinations are especially suited to boys 
fresh from school or college. Through the merit sys- 
tem the Government secures the services of persons 
who to at least a fair common-school education have 
added some experience in business. 

(4) It insures that permanence in office which is es- 
sential to good administration. An officer of high char- 
acter who has been for many years in the civil service 
of the Government recently gave it as the result of his 
observation that under the patronage system the pe- 
riod intervening between the election and the inaugura- 
tion of a President was marked by demoralization of 
the service which diminished the efficiency of the ordi- 
nary clerk at least fifty per cent. Employees of the 
Government, uncertain of their future, neglected their 
duties to seek influence to secure their retention or pro- 
motion. What percentage of removals usually fol- 
lowed a change of administration cannot be stated, but 
it may safely be asserted that it was greater under the 
spoils system when the different administrations were 
of the same party than under the merit system, which 
within the last five years has stood the crucial test of 
two changes as between the two great political parties. 
The records show that of those who entered the classi- 
fied service through the merit system the removals and 
resignations under the administration of President 
Cleveland averaged from three to eight per cent, a year, 
and that in one year of the administration of President 
Harrison similar changes averaged a little less than 
eight per cent. These figures teach the valuable lesson 
that retention and promotion in the classified depart- 
mental service depend upon merit, and not upon the 
personal or political influence which employees can 
bring to bear upon an appointing officer. The result- 
ing benefit to the public service is obvious. Mr. Sec- 
retary Windom in his last annual report to Congress 
found time amid the exacting duties of his great office 
to bear testimony to the value of the merit system. I 
quote only a part of what he said on this subject. 

" It is my belief that the personnel and efficiency of 
the service have been in no way lowered by the present 
method of appointments to clerical positions in the de- 
partment. The beneficial influences of the civil service 
law in its practical workings are clearly apparent. 
Having been at the head of the department both be- 
fore and after its adoption, I am able to judge by com- 
parison of the two systems, and have no hesitation in 
pronouncing the present condition of affairs as prefera- 
ble in all respects. Under the old plan appointments 
were usually made to please some one under political 
or other obligations to the appointee, and the question 
of fitness was not always the controlling one. The 
temptation to make removals only to provide places 
for others was always present and constantly being 
urged by strong influences, and this restless and fever- 
ish condition of departmental life did much to distract 
and disturb the even current of routine work. Under 
instrumentalities which are now used to secure selec- 
tions for clerical places the department has some as- 

surance of mental capacity, and also of moral worth, 
as the character of the candidates is ascertained before 

I trust it will be deemed pardonable State pride if I 
call attention to the record of my own State with ref- 
erence to the merit system. On the 22d of December, 
1884, both houses of the legislature of South Carolina 
adopted the following resolution : 

Whereas the general assembly of the State of South 
Carolina did, at the regular session of 1880, adopt a con- 
current resolution, to wit : 

' ' Resolved by the House of 'Representatives ; the Senate con- 
curring, That our senators and representatives in the 
Congress of the United States be requested to urge Con- 
gress to take such measures as may be expedient for the 
reformation of the civil service, so that the tenure of 
office under the General Government may no longer be 
dependent upon party success nor subject to levy by 
means of forced pecuniary contributions to any political 
party, and so that capacity and character shall be the 
test of fitness for office and the sole but certain guarantee 
of its tenure " ; 

And whereas this general assembly, in view of the 
change in the administration of the National Govern- 
ment, desires to reiterate and reaffirm the principles and 
policy of the said resolution : 

Be it now resolved by the House of Representatives, the 
Senate concurring, That this general assembly adheres 
to the same, and tenders to the administration of the 
President-elect the approval and support of the people 
of this State in carrying out the provisions of the law in 
regard to civil service reform. 

Resolved, That his Excellency the governor is hereby 
requested to forward a copy of this resolution to Presi- 
dent Cleveland when he shall have been inaugurated. 

These resolutions were passed after the election and 
before the inauguration of President Cleveland by a leg- 
islature a majority of whose members in both branches 
were politically in sympathy with him. They ex- 
press briefly and forcibly the cardinal principles of the 
merit system. I do not claim that the opponents of 
that system are necessarily corrupt politicians, nor 
that its advocates have a monopoly of the political vir- 
tues, but I do claim that it is thoroughly American 
and in perfect harmony with the theory of our gov- 
ernment, in that it recognizes the equality of all men 
before the law, and makes merit the sole test for pub- 
lic office. 

Hugh S. Thompson. 

Washington, D. C. 

Does Vivisection Help ? 

It may not be out of place to reexamine the foun- 
dation for some of the great claims now made for recent 
advances in medicine and surgery. Some light may 
be thrown upon this subject by other discoveries — 
the discovery, for instance, in Sanskrit and classical 
literature of full descriptions of certain medical and 
surgical methods and appliances in use among the 

In some cases, as, for instance, from the excavations 
at Pompeii, instruments have been found, both surgical 
and dental, almost identical with our own. In others, as 
in the works of Hippocrates and in the " Susruta," 
a commentary on the " Yajur Veda " of the Hindus, full 
descriptions are given of more than a hundred surgical 
instruments of steel ; of many kinds of bandages ; and 
the specifications for a splint, like the patented bamboo 
splint now in use by British army surgeons. Susruta 
also describes surgical operations which are claimed as 
crowning glories of nineteenth-century surgery. The 



surgical operation for the stone, and the rhinoplastic, or 
that which consists in making an artificial nose from 
flesh and skin taken from the patient's own forehead, 
were fully known and" practiced by the ancient Hindus. 

And finally, the antiseptic treatment of wounds, one 
of the glories of modern surgery, is proved to be a re- 
discovery. Hippocrates, in his book on wounds, which 
is a small manual on this method of treatment, describes 
it, and calls it by the Greek word for non-putrescible. 
The plain truth seems to be that the ancients knew 
pretty nearly as much as we do about surgery and 
medicine ; for it unfortunately happens that with all our 
increased scientific knowledge of disease, its etiology, 
its diagnosis and prognosis, we have arrived at the 
conclusion that the "expectant treatment," or the art 
of letting the disease severely alone, is the most scien- 
tific way of curing it — in other words, nature will effect 
the cure herself if we do not meddle with her. Cer- 
tainly we run less risk of being killed by the doctors 
nowadays than at any other period of the world's his- 
tory, but this can scarcely be claimed to the physicians' 
credit. The success of homeopathy is simply the suc- 
cess of the expectant treatment, just as the success of 
the so-called antiseptic treatment is due to the high 
ritual of perfect and microscopic cleanliness. Even 
educated surgeons could not be brought to see the ne- 
cessity for absolute cleanliness in their operations till 
Professor Lister, with the genius of a great discoverer, 
elevated it into a dogma with a Greek name, and elab- 
orated a ritual as complicated and significant as that 
of the Roman Church. Looking round the dirty wards 
of the ill-managed hospitals, where patients lay fester- 
ing and rotting in their own discharges, where noxious 
emanations from ill-dressed wounds poisoned the at- 
mosphere and penetrated all the walls and ceilings, 
Professor Lister made up his mind that doctors and 
patients should be compelled to wash and be clean; 
to ventilate, scour, purify, and scrub, though a cere- 
monial as troublesome and costly as the Jewish should 
have to be invented for the purpose. 

If, however, this microscopic cleanliness can be 
reached more simply and directly, so much the better ; 
the point is that absolute cleanliness shall be secured, 
the means by which it is attained being comparatively 

All the nonsense talked about the experiments upon 
living animals which enabled Lister to discover and 
perfect his new system did not blind the eyes of the 
great surgeons of the old school to the fact that plain 
water efficiently used was every whit as good as the 
carbolic-acid dressings, which killed the wonderful 
" germs " said to be the cause of the pyaemia and surgi- 
cal fever which kills the patients. The plain truth is that 
experiments on animals had no more to do with these 
improvements in modern surgery than they had to do 
with the successful means used by the farmer's wife in 
securing the best results of her churn and milk dishes. 
Experience taught her that the scrubbing-brush and 
soap must unremittingly be used on all her vessels and 
implements, or her butter and cheese would infallibly 
spoil. The microscope taught the doctors that mi- 
crobes and bacteria must be ruthlessly fought with 
similar weapons. Vivisection had no more to do with 
turning out the dirty surgeon, with his contaminated 
tools and ligatures, than it had to do with washing the 
pails and tiling the walls of the dairies of the Ayles- 

bury Dairy Company. Hear Mr. Lawson Tait,the great- 
est abdominal surgeon in the world, on this. 

Birmingham, October 9, 1889. 
Dear Dr. Berdoe : You may take it from me that 
instead of vivisection having in any way advanced ab- 
dominal surgery, it has, on the contrary, had a uniform 
tendency to retard it. This I show to be particularly the 
case in operations upon the gall bladder, and refer you to 
the current number of the " Edinburgh Medical Jour- 
nal," where in an article I point to the fact. As to the 
use of the antiseptics of Lister, it increased our mortal- 
ity, prevented recoveries, and did a vast deal of harm by 
retarding true progress. 

Yours very truly, 

Lawson Tait. 

Hear also Sir William Savory, late President of the 
Royal College of Surgeons, than whom no better surgi- 
cal authority exists. Speaking at the Medical Congress 
held in London in 1881 he said : " If you examine the 
records of surgery in recent years, the fact that most 
impresses you is the very sudden and prodigious im- 
provement which has taken place in certain quarters. 
At a single spring, as it were, they have passed from a 
frightful mortality to a very fair amount of success, and 
this because the mischief of filth and foulness from 
putrefaction has been recognized. Surgical wards, not 
long ago hotbeds of poison, are now made fairly safe 
for patients. . . . Still, no doubt, some startling nov- 
elty of practice was necessary, or at least greatly advan- 
tageous, to this end, yet I cannot doubt that the same 
end might have been reached by an adequate improve- 
ment in simple sanitary arrangements." ("Transac- 
tions of the International Medical Congress." Vol. 
II., p. 347. London, 1881.) 

The great improvements during the last twenty years 
in the manufacture of the microscope, coupled with 
precise methods of cultivating minute organisms — 
microbes and bacteria, — have enormously increased our 
knowledge of diseases caused by " germs " ; and though 
doubtless many experiments have been performed on 
animals in this connection, it is not correct to attribute 
to such methods successes which have been achieved 
through quite other means. It seems, however, that 
with what is known as the scientific school of doctors 
no practice or mode of treatment which is not founded 
on experimental research on the lower animals is worth 
much attention. 

To the general public, not versed in the peculiar 
methods of controversialists, especially of those who, 
to use an American phrase, have "an ax to grind," 
nothing is more surprising or annoying than the way 
experts have of manipulating facts and figures to suit 
their particular contentions. The world was rather 
startled the other day to read some statistics which 
went to prove that drunkards live longer than total ab- 
stainers ; but even this barefaced attempt to " make the 
worse appear the better reason " has been eclipsed 
within the past few months by an attempt to make the 
wonderful success of Mr. Lawson Tait's operations in 
abdominal surgery the result of experiments on living 
animals. In a late article on " Recent Progress in Sur- 
gery " the author says, " The most remarkable statis- 
tics recently published are those of Mr. Tait, and a 
mere statement of his percentages will go far to con- 
vince the non-medical public of the correctness of the 
above statements, startling as they appear to one unfa- 
miliar with modern surgical progress." To drag in 
Mr. Tait as a witness in a long and elaborate argument 



on behalf of vivisection, as the letter just quoted as well 
as his published articles will prove, is about as hon- 
est as to make Luther speak in defense of the Papacy. 
Mr. Tait is unwearying in protesting that none of his 
successes can in any way be attributed to experiments 
on living animals. He published a few years ago an ex- 
ceedingly clever treatise entitled " The Uselessness of 
Vivisection upon Animals as a Method of Scientific 
Research." He says that he never witnessed a single 
experiment on a living animal in the whole course of 
his medical education, and to the present moment has 
never found it necessary to instruct his pupils by any 
such method. He is equally skeptical as to the advan- 
tages of Listerism, and thinks cleanliness plus car- 
bolic acid and high ritual no whit better than cleanliness 
plus common sense. Yet his statistics are so impor- 
tant in every argument relating to the triumphs of 
modern surgery that they must be made to do duty 
on the other side whether he will or no. Happily ab- 
dominal tumors, the kidney, spleen, and gall-stones can 
now be removed with every promise of success, and 
because Gross and others experimented on dogs in 
this direction it is the fashion to say that suffering hu- 
manity owes its relief from abdominal maladies to the 
operations on the animals ; but the real history of sur- 
gery — not the romance history — teaches us that it 
was by Baker Brown and Keith, working by experi- 
ence on the indications offered by human patients, 
that the mortality of the abdominal operations was 
so reduced that surgeons were emboldened to attempt 
what they now so nobly and bravely carry out. It is 
not because spleens, kidneys, and portions of intestines 
were successfully removed from dogs that surgeons 
learned to operate on these organs in man, but be- 
cause the bold dexterity of Keith and others in deal- 
ing with abdominal tumors suggested the practica- 
bility of dealing successfully with organs lying in the 
region of the abdomen. We should have been precisely 
where we are now in this respect if a surgeon had 
never opened the peritoneal cavity of dog or rabbit. 
It is the fashion to deny this, but there is plenty of 
proof for the statement. 

Then, as to the surgery of the brain, it is con- 
stantly stated " that without vivisection the exact lo- 
calization of cerebral tumors and other such lesions, 
which is one of the chief glories of the present day, 
would be impossible." And then we are told of 
the wonderful works in localization of brain functions 
done by Ferrier, Schafer, and Horsley in England, 
and Fritsch, Hitzig, and Goltz in Germany. What we 
are not told is that these vivisectors are not at all in 
harmony with each other, and that it is highly improb- 
able that either would allow another to localize his 
brain functions for him with a view to operating in 
case of necessity for surgical interference with his 
skull and its contents. Dr. Watts said that " Birds in 
their little nests agree," but nothing of the sort could 
be said of the physiologists we have named, for they 
anathematize one another like rival theologians, though, 
like them, they endeavor to conceal their disagreements 
before the heathen, with more or less success. Be- 
tween the speaking brain of man and the dumb brain 
of the animal there can be but little analogy, as Pro- 
fessor Charcot has pointed out. Even if there were 
an actual similarity, it would still be useless to use the 
brains of animals for experiment, as accidents and inju- 

ries to the human head have afforded surgeons abun- 
dant opportunity of localizing brain function, with 
sufficient approximation to precision, so far as opera- 
tions for the relief of abscess, tumors, and injuries are 
concerned. It required no experiments on monkeys to 
teach the ancients to use the trephine for relieving 
pressure of depressed fracture of the skull; the symp- 
toms were carefully noted, and the position of the 
depressed bone indicated the area with whose inter- 
ference they were concerned. MacEwen of Glasgow 
achieved astonishing success in this department of 
surgery long before Ferrier's cruel experiments on 
monkeys set surgeons to work on the lines of his 
localizations. Surgery has advanced with giant strides : 
how much credit is due to the makers of surgical in- 
struments, whose activity and ingenuity have done so 
much to aid its progress, we are not likely to learn 
from the transactions of any medical society or con- 
gress, but the fact remains that we are indebted to a 
great number of very humble artificers for much of 
it ; and for the rest let the patient workers in methods 
which do not dazzle by their fashionable appeal to vul- 
gar preconceptions have a place in the history of medi- 
cine, though their names are not yet recorded in its 

Edward Berdoe. 

An Anecdote of Sheridan. 

While the United States was engaged in the great 
civil war, France and Austria took advantage of 
our comparatively helpless condition to attempt the 
conquest of Mexico, with a view to construct a new 
empire there under Maximilian.* General Grant was 
strongly opposed to this policy, and after Appomattox 
sent Sheridan with an army to the lower Rio Grande 
to observe the movements of the foreigners and to be 
in readiness to intervene whenever Congress gave per- 
mission. A colonel who was present with that portion 
of our army which was posted at Brownsville, opposite 
Matamoras, related the following incident, which can 
be recorded now ; but which, if it had found its way 
into the newspapers of that day, would probably have 
led to international complications. 

An orderly woke the colonel soon after daylight one 
morning and urged him to go down to the bank of the 
river, as' something remarkable was going on there. 
The colonel did so, and had the gratification of seeing 
a combat — it could hardly be called a battle — between 
the national troops, the adherents of Juarez, and the 
Mexicans who were serving under the banner of Maxi- 
milian and who were in possession of Matamoras. The 
object of the Juarez troops was, of course, to drive the 
enemy from Matamoras and hold the place, as, owing 
to its proximity to the United States forces, it was a 
very important point. Each side seemed to be fortified, 
and was engaged in a contest at long range, which 
was neither very exciting nor destructive. The next 
morning the orderly came again to wake the colonel, 
and assured him that he would see some genuine fight- 
ing. The colonel hurried down to the bank, and there 
he saw the Juarez men leave their intrenchments, ad- 
vance with the utmost intrepidity, storm the works at 
Matamoras, and drive the adherents of Maximilian 
through the town and far beyond out into the open 
country. Of course Sheridan could not send a force to 
the other side of the river without the authority of 



Congress and the War Department. That would have 
been an unheard-of proceeding. What he did do was to 
give one of his brigades a leave of absence, and that settled 
the question so far as Matamoras was concerned. 

A few days afterwards an Austrian staff officer came 
over and paid our troops a visit. After a critical ex- 
amination he went back and reported to his chief that 
there was nothing to be done but to give up the contest 
and go back to Austria. 

Abner Dotcbleday, 
Bvi. Major- General, United States A rmy. 

Mendham, Morris Co., N. J. 

McClellan's Candidacy with the Army. 

Reference having been made to General McClellan 
as a presidential candidate in 1864, on page 638 of the 
February Century, I ask a few words in which to 
express the feeling in the ranks of the Army of the 

No one denies that while the army was commanded 
by McClellan the rank and file hurrahed at every ap- 
pearance of a major-general, and particularly so when 
the "little general" appeared, but no more so than 
afterwards at the sight of Meade, Sheridan, and Grant. 
The name of McClellan gradually dropped, other names 
grew brighter, and Lincoln's name was revered. 

When the two parties had their candidates before 
the people in 1864 provisions of law had been made 
giving the soldiers the privilege of voting, and many 
would cast their first vote. They remembered that in 
legislative bodies the supporters of McClellan had 
voted against the " soldier suffrage." They had read 
of the " Knights of the Golden Circle," and they knew 
every one of them advocated McClellan and was an 
enemy of Lincoln. They had read of the draft riots in 
New York, and had seen regiments leaving the army 
to enforce the laws in the chief commercial city of the 
Union. They read of the burning of negro orphan 
asylums, of the dragging through the streets and hang- 
ing to lamp-posts of citizens of that city, and the sol- 
diers knew that they who led the mob were supporters 
of McClellan. 

They knew that Governor Seymour protested against 
the enforcement of the draft to fill their thinned ranks. 
They read the proceedings of Congress, and knew that 
the minority who voted against appropriations and 
levies of men were hurrahing for " Little Mac." 
They had read how the governor of Indiana was 
obliged to prorogue the legislature and borrow money 
from friends of the Administration to supply Indiana 

soldiers with ration and uniforms, and that every fili- 
buster was vociferous for the Chicago candidate. 

They knew that the Thirteenth Amendment to the 
Constitution failed of a two-thirds vote, and that every 
" nay " was by a clamorous friend of McClellan. The 
Wisconsin soldiers knew that the legislative appropri- 
ation of their State to organize and equip new regiments, 
and to give the soldiers in the field the right to vote, was 
opposed by legislators who were noisy for McClellan. 

They read the daily papers in camp and on the 
picket line in close proximity to the Confederate vi- 
dette, describing McClellan processions with banners 
bearing the motto, "The war is a failure," and exhibit- 
ing Lincoln painted as a baboon. 

The soldiers knew of General Sheridan's successes 
in the Valley, that General Sherman had reached At- 
lanta, that Admiral Farragut had passed the forts guard- 
ing the harbor of Mobile, that Grant was extending 
his lines to the left ; they knew that the thinned ranks 
made by the battles in the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, 
Cold Harbor, and all along the line in front of Peters- 
burg were not in vain, and that all the sacrifice of human 
life that summer was necessary, and that the war was 
not a failure. 

The writer spent a day late in October, 1864, in hos- 
pitals in Washington, Georgetown, and Alexandria, with 
comrades from Wisconsin, Indiana, Michigan, and other 
States ; and every one with whom he spoke, lying on 
cots, emaciated and weak with fever and with wounded 
bodies, was anxious to vote for Lincoln. They could 
read the signal from the army, " We are all right"; 
that with a " little more grape "the war would end ; 
that the flag they had followed so long and fought for and 
suffered for and bled for would float everywhere, with 
the Union cause triumphant and the war not a failure. 

The night after the election news of the result was 
wired to army headquarters. It soon reached the negro 
quarters, where loyal and fervent prayers went out for 
the great emancipator. Quickly the news went from 
tent to tent, from camp to camp ; the glad tidings were 
carried to the picket line, where the sentinels in their 
loneliness commenced firing, and in language unmis- 
takable informed the Confederates that Lincoln was 

The following is a summary of the vote of Wisconsin 
soldiers in the Army of the Potomac : Lincoln, 1408, 
McClellan, 266. The 2d Wisconsin, which had fought 
from the first Bull Run, cast one vote for McClellan. 

Viroqua, Wisconsin. 

Earl M. Rogers. 


To my Lost Luray. 


N a box with his brother, 
Each solacing the other, 
The puppy left Virginia by express, 
A gift to me. He knew my first caress, 
And made me love him by his puppy pranks, 
His roguish bites and barks and kissing thanks. 

The pretty little fellow 

Had paws of tawny yellow, 
And nose and chops the same ; and two tan spots 
Above his hazel eyes, that seemed like dots 
Of thought upon his forehead ; and for the rest, 
In sable, shiny black, Luray was dressed. 

I thought him so much better 

Than any puppy setter, 
I took him to the Dog Show ; with his eyes — 
I know it was his eyes — he won the prize. 
(He was the only entry in his class, 
Some friends took pains to say — but let that 

As soon as he grew older 

His fluffy puppy shoulder 
Stood high and gaunt; his loins began receding; 
In every line and point he showed his breeding. 
The time has come, said I, to test his grain, 
And now, if ever, to begin to reign. 



I improvised a quarry 

And made him fetch and carry, 
And " charge " and " heel " and " find " ; do all, in 

To fit a setter for a life of sport. 
He did not learn his lesson in a day, 
And often sought to shirk his work for play. 

I tried not to upbraid him. 
Though often, when I made him 
Do this or that, he taxed my patience much ; 
For if I held a bone in careless clutch, 
Which I would think to hide and make him find, 
He 'd steal up soft and snap it from behind. 

And then to see him scamper 

Was something of a damper 
On training. How he 'd frisk and twist and bound, 
And toss the bone and catch it off the ground, 
And wait, crouched low before, with hips held high 
Till I approached him, when away he 'd fly ! 

And then I 'd shout : " Charge down, sir ! 

You '11 never win renown, sir, 
Behaving so." But by and by he came 
To understand me and to find my game 
More fun than his : he 'd watch my wave of hand, 
Or stop and listen to my least command. 

So he was wise and sober 

Some time before October, 
When dogs and hunters take their tramps afield. 
The first day he was puzzled, nor revealed 
His sense ; the next he nosed about ; the third 
He trailed, he pointed, and he fetched his bird. 

He never made a blunder, 

But hunted to the wonder 
Of all who knew him. When another gun 
Than mine had killed, and other dogs were done 
With searching for the bird, my side he 'd leave, 
Go far within the bush, and then retrieve. 

There never was a cartridge 

More sure to find a partridge 
Than he. What pride he took to fetch his bird — 
The puppy with his partridge ! Wilding heard 
It all at night, I fancied, when Luray 
Crept in his stall and close beside him lay. 

They always slept together 

In frosty autumn weather. 
They loved each other. Wilding munched his hay 
And breathed warm kisses on the dog ; Luray 
Coiled in the straw where Wilding put his nose 
And gently licked it after every doze. 

The next day, when the pony 

Was in his cart, his crony 
Before we started always rushed to kiss him ; 
He never failed, but Wilding seemed to miss him 
Until he jumped and licked his face; the start 
Thus authorized, he ran beneath the cart. 

Alas ! all that is ended : 

An illness came, attended 
With pain and poison ; I have lost Luray. 
'T is said that every dog must have his day ; 
Oh ! why did not Luray have his ? Two years — 
So much for loving ; all the rest for tears. 

And now I 've told my story, 

I must tell you how I glory 
In having loved Luray. What better than 
Such love for such a dog ? I loathe the man 
Who snarls at dogs : his very soul 's agog. 
God made the world ; God also made the dog. 

John Eliot Bozven. 

Mammy's Churning Song. 

Set still, honey, let ole Mammy tell yer 'bout de churn, 
Wid de cream en clabber dashin', 
En de buttermilk er-splashin'. 
Dis de chune hit am er-singin' 'fore hit 'gin ter turn : 
Jiggery, jiggery, jiggery, jum, 
Massa gib ole nigger some. 

(Jump down, honey, en fotch me dat rag fum de 
table, fer ter wipe off dis hyah led. Tole yer so, dat 
milk gwine ter splatter up hyah 'reckly ! Dar now, 
dat 's er good chile, git back in mer lap.) 

Now de cream, en milk, en clabber 's churnin' up so 

Hyah hit splatterin' en er-splutterin', 

En er-mixin', en er-mutterin', 
In de churn en roun' de dasher, singin' ter de las' : 

Jiggery* jiggery. jiggery, jum, 


Massa gib ole nigger some. 

(Uh-er ! Teck kyah, honey, keep dem fingers way 
fum dar ! Butter mos' come now : set still jis er 
leetle w'ile longer.) 

Soon de lumps ob butter '11 be er-floatin' on de top — 
Now de ole churn 's fa'rly hummin', 
Tell yer wot, de butter comin' — 
Done come ! Mammy's arm so ti-yerd, now she 's 
gwine ter stop. 

Jiggery, jiggery, jiggery, jum, 
Mammy '11 gib de baby some. 

(Dar now ! [removing the top and giving the dasher 
a circular motion] jis peep in dar en see de lumps ob 
yaller butter er-huddlin' tergedder. Now run fotch 
yer leetle blue mug, en Mammy '11 gib yer some nice 
sweet buttermilk right outen dis hyah churn. ) 

Edzvard A. Oldham. 


Here is a good-natured tussle for a cake of Pears' Soap, which only illustrates 
how necessary it becomes to all people who have once tried it and discovered its 
merits. Some who ask for it have to contend for it in a more serious way, and that 
too in drug stores, where all sorts of vile and inferior soaps, represented as "just 
as good," are urged upon them as substitutes. But there is nothing " just as 
good," and they can always get the genuine Pears' Soap if they will be as persist- 
ent as are these urchins. SHUN MISREPRESENTATIONS. 

Oct. '90. 


LATEST PATTERN containing new Patent Soft Stop, Patent Desk, and other patents used exclusively in the Ivers & 
Pond Piano. Dimensions : 4 ft. 9 in. high, 5 ft. 2 in. wide, 2 ft. 2.^ in. deep. Mad; in Mahogany, figured Walnut, quarter-sawed 
Oak, and Rose Wood finish. 

Beautiful 100-page catalogue, showing pictures of Grand, Square, and Upright Pianos, sent free. 


WE ARE LARGE MANUFACTURERS of strictly first-class pianos. We 
believe our instruments to be more perfect in thoroughness of construction, elegance of 
finish, fullness and brilliancy of tone, than pianos made by any other manufacturer. 
Valuable information to intending purchasers sent free. 

WE OFFER TO SHIP ON APPROVAL, to be returned, railway freights both 
ways at our expense, if unsatisfactory on trial in your home. 

DISTANCE MAKES NO DIFFERENCE— i mile or 2,000 miles are alike to 
us. We take old instruments in exchange, and make terms of payment to suit each 
customer's reasonable convenience. 

100-PAGE CATALOGUE MAILED FREE to any one naming this advertise- 
ment. Address 




J. G. RAMSDELL'S, mi Chestnut St., Philadelphia. W. J. DYER & BRO.'S, St. Paul and Minneapolis. 

F. H. CHANDLER'S, 300 Fulton St., Brooklyn. PHILIP WERLEIN'S, 135 Canal St., New Orleans. 

G. W. HERBERT'S, 18 East 17th St., New York. SANDERS & STAYMAN'S, Baltimore, Washington, and Richmond. 

For Pacific Coast, KOHLER & CHASE, San Francisco, Cal. 


MERICAN Connoisseurs, Amateur and Professional Players, and Lovers of the 

Violin generally, will be glad to learn that we have recently imported a magnifi 

cent collection of Genuine Old Violins including masterpieces bearing such 

f P^gS | names as Francesco Stradivarius (1742); Giov. Paola Maggini, Brescia (1630); 

Francesco Ruggerius, Cremona (17 12); Jean Baptiste Guadagnini, Carlo Tononi, 

Giov. Baptiste Grancino, Michael Angelo Bergonzi, Heinrich Jacobs, HieronymoUs 

Amati, Carlo Testore, Allessandro and Januarius Gagliano, Antonio Marianni, Carlo 

Pecino, Jacobus Steiner, Sebastian and Joseph Kloz, Daniel Stadleman and others, 

and will hereafter make this department a prominent feature of our business 

These instruments were selected by one of our experts dispatched to 
Europe for that purpose. In addition to the Violins, we have specimens of the 
finest Violas, Cellos and Double Basses by such makers as Alex. Gagliano, Ceruti, 
Claude Pierray, Castagneri, Panorma and Joseph Kloz ..... 

We have also a full assortment of excellent Bows by Tourte, Bausch, Dodd, 
Moucatel, Tubbs, Voirin, Uric, Riechers, Noebe, Schultz, Suss, Banks, Gand and 
Bernardel, Siefert and Hammig, and our House will be the American Depot for 
the Violin Specialties of Hill & Son, London, and Albert, Philadelphia 

The growing interest manifested by women in the Violin and its music 
is one of the signs of the times, and we will make it a point to attend to the wants 
of this class of our patrons particularly ........ 

Besides the high grade Old Violins, we carry a very large supply of New 
Instruments (copies of the Masters) of both our own and the best foreign make. 

We have rooms especially fitted up for trying Violins, etc., and invite 
personal inspection of our entire collection when possible ; but if prospective 
purchasers cannot visit us, we will send assortments 
with privilege of examination. For full particulars, 
description and prices, see our Violin Pamphlet. 
Mailed Free to any address .... 

Factory, RANDOLPH St. &. OGDEN Av. 

(When writing mention the Century.) Warerooms, STATE &. MONROE Sts.. CHICAGO. 

The Mason & Hamlin Piano 

Illustrates the same high standard of excellence which has always characterized the 
MASON & HAMLIN ORGANS, and won for them the Highest Awards at 
ALL GREAT WORLD'S EXHIBITIONS since and including that of Paris, 1867. 

Organ and Piano Catalogues sent free to any address. 



BOSTON, Mason Sl Hamlin Hall, 154 and 155 Tremont Street. 
NEW-YORK, 158 Fifth Avenue. CHICAGO, 149 Wabash Avenue. 


trip to the moon. Did you ever make a trip to 

the moon? Probably not; but when the 

great Terra Luna Railroad is finished 

from Brattleboro' to the moon, you will be 

able to make the trip, and hear good 

music from the Estey Organs all the way. 

The moon is a long way from Brattleboro', 

but if all the Organs made by the Estey Organ Co. 

were placed like signal stations along the route, 

you would never be A~ ^i^^fflp^SlV^^ m ° rC than haIf that distancc 
from the nearest one. (-'"y^^^^f ^^ ^M^N ™ A laborin g man earning 
$2 a day would have to work \ (J j jBbW " IQy ^J B J 34,ooo years, and have 

^ood health all the time, to \jSB'EHKKJBBPP/ earn lhc value of a11 these 
Organs. — If a ^jn]^^^MplV boy ten years of age should 

and play for ^^^%^?5^^y i ^^'^^ one nour on eacn organ for 

ten hours a day, ^^<^ s i x days in the week and 52 weeks 

in the year, that child would be a white-haired old man about 

75 years of age when he finished his little practising on the 

last Organ. — The Estey Organs sold exceed four times the 

number of men in Sherman's army when he marched from 

Atlanta to the sea. — If a man were to work every day 

in the year 12 hours a day at $1.50 per day, it would take 

him almost 750 years to earn the value of these organs, if 

sold at $1.00 each. If paid an Estey Organ for each day's 

labor, it would take him 560 years to get them all. 

Spaulding & Co 


Gold and Silver Smiths 

<§ With full lines of WATCHES from such well-known makers as Jules Jurgensen, 
Patek, Philippe & Co., Waltham, Elgin, and E. Howard & Co., no house in the country 
carries a more comprehensive stock than ours <§ <§ i We call SPECIAL attention to 

CASE as a thoroughly reliable time piece <§ <§ <§ A large and complete selection of 
Repeating Watches and Chronographs in stock at all times <§<§§><§<§@(§<§<§<§ 

36 Ave. De L'Opera 

State and Monroe Sts. 


Sealskin Jackets. 
C°ats .Wraps and Cloaks 
Fur Lined Coat§> ^ Wraps • 

Choice^ Exclusive Designj. 
Perfect in make ^ FiNi&tt 



f r I c^- ^ 



If not for sale by your local dealer, address 


"From Andante to Allegro," a beautifully illustrated pamphlet, 
will be sent free to any one who will mention where this advertisement 
was seen. 


The excellence of our ORGANS 
has brought us many enquiries for 
special designs to correspond with 
the finish of Church, School, Lodge 
or Home. As our factories are the 


we have every facility for the execution of such 
orders at but a slightly increased cost over 
regular styles, and shall at all times be pleased 
to furnish estimates for this special make. 
OUR ORGANS are superior in quality, in 
construction, in purity of tone and in excel- 
lence of all materials used. 

Send for Catalogue. 

The NEEDHAM P. 0. CO. 

292 BROADWAY, N. Y. 



Used by hundreds of Academies, Colleges, Schools, 
etc., for more than 33 YEARS. m preference to 
all others, because the Steck Pianos have proved to be 
the Most Reliable Instruments after the severest tests. 



Jnl A G N E R . — " Everywhere acknowledged to 


L I S Z T . — " They give the liveliest satisfaction.'" 
ESSIPOFF. — "The very best piano made. ' ' 

W I L H E LM J. — "Rank far above all possible com- 

LUCCA > — "Are unparalleled for the majestic sing- 
ing quality of tone." 

TAMAGNO.— "Combine all the essential qual- 
ities of a really perfect piano, immense power with 
exquisite sweetness." 

A R D I T I . — " Without fear of contradiction the Steck 
ranks higher than all other instruments now maniA 
fact u red. ' ' 

GEO. STECK & CO. Manufacturers, 

Warerooms: Steck Hall, 11 East 14th Street, New- York. 







Catalogues and full information mailed 
free on application. 

Vose^Sons Piano Go. 

170 TFtfMDNTST. B0ST0N./AA5S. 



Some of oar 
Latest ^Designs. 


Shaded colors, with rich gold 
and color design, made in old 
rose, olive gray, turquoise green, 
English red, and a beautiful 
. ^"pp^ e C(Jp> shade of brown maroon. 





For Sale by the Trade Everywhere. 



NEW -York Office: 
Room 413 Telephone Building, 

18 Cortlandt Street. 

The only award to American Pottery at the 
Paris Exposition, 1889, was 


This ware may be found with a leading 
dealer in each large city, or inquiries 
may be addressed to 

ROOKWOOD POTTERY, Cincinnati, Ohio. 



BHIXIS COMfH^OKiG^GO. limited. 


This design represents a few of the leading marks found on china, examples of which can 
always be seen at our establishment, together with all others of prominence and merit. 

Domestic Pottery and Glass. 1 

For years we have made a special feature of the best display of home manufactures that 
were obtainable, with such success that at the Paris Exposition of 1889 we secured for 

Hawkes's American Cut Glass — Grand Prize ; Rookwood Pottery, Cincinnati— Gold Medal, 

Exclusive sale for above for New-York and Brooklyn. 

Photographs of Cut Glass sent on application. Correspondence in regard to China and 
table decorations solicited. 


Broadway and Twenty-first St. New-York. 1 

Moonstone Cnt Glass. 

This is the name given to an entirely 
new finish in rich cut glass, adding to its 
usual brilliancy a warmth and softness of 
appearance that will be found very attract- 
ive. The price is no higher than for ordi- 
nary cut glass, ranging from $2.25 to $6.00 
for bon bon or olive dishes, $6.00 to 
$24.00 for seven to ten-inch bowls, $6.75 
to $i3.5ofor celery trays, $36.00 to $53.00 
for fourteen-inch punch bowls. Other 
shapes at proportionate prices. 

Samples sent prepaid to any part of the 
country, with privilege of return if not 
entirely satisfactory, the money paid to 
be refunded by us. It makes something 
entirely new for a wedding or Christmas 
present. Send for descriptive circular, 
and also for our pamphlet of helpful 
"Suggestions for Christmas." 

W. H. GLEMY, SONS & CO. Buffalo, N. Y. 







We have tried to illustrate four of our special bargains this month. 
m The repousse chased Salad Fork and Spoon, handsomely cased, 
is only $16.00. 

The dainty Bon-Ron Dish and Tongs, $10.00. 

A dozen of the trident Oyster Forks, $10.00. 

A dozen of the twist Coffee Spoons, Gilt Bowl, $9.00. 

These are from 30 per cent, to 40 per cent, under regular prices, 
and we have 5000 cases correspondingly low in price. We will send 
a number of cases to any address for examination. 

An old Continental Tea Set, 6 pieces, $300, well worth $500, is a 
special attraction. 

OliD GOLD Jewelry, and worn-out or useless silver, taken 
in exchange or bought. Send by registered mail or express. Cer- 
tified check sent by return mail. 


Established 1844. Send/or Price-list. 

Home, Sweet Home. 

If you want your home to be sweet and 
pure, free from bad odors and breeding" places 
for disease germs, you should see that you 
get the appliances best adapted for the pre- 
vention of these evils. We have told you of 
our Porcelain-Lined Bath Tubs; you cannot 
improve on them ; our Porcelain-Lined Laundry Tubs are just as good for 
the laundry as our Baths are for the Bath-room, and our Porcelain-Lined 
Soil Pipe and Fittings are the most sanitary you can find — the lining is as 
smooth as glass, offering no resting place for germs or filth, and never be- 
come foul or stopped up. 

If you have our Baths, Laundry Tubs and Porcelain-Lined Pipe in your 
house we guarantee you a sweet home. 


Catalogue free. PITTSBURGH, PA. 


For nearly half a century, Lowell Carpets have been 
acknowledged by all to be 

The word 
TERS in the back of 
Lowell, Wilton 
and Body Brussels 
at every repeat of the 
pattern. LOOK 
to the trade-marks, and 
be sure you get the 





wound upon a hollow 
stick, which the United 
States Court decided 
to be a valid trade- 
mark. The stick is 
in two solid pieces 
with the name of the 


stamped within. 


These goods are invariably full width, and may be 
had in a large variety of designs, which for technique 
and coloring are unequaled, rendering them especially 
appropriate for artistic homes. 

For Sale by all First-class Dealers. 


The Pittsburgh Lamp is 

one of those inventions 

that seem to be finished. 

It seems to reach the 

end as to goodness 

of light in every 

way, and ease of 


The only care 
it requires is fill- 
ing and wiping. 
Dirt falls out 
when the chim- 
ney is taken off, not into a pocket as 
in other central-draft lamps. 

Putting in a new wick is a very 
easy matter indeed. 

All this seems strange to one who 
knows how troublesome other good 
lamps are. 

It is in all the good lamp-stores. 
Send for a primer. 
Pittsburgh, Pa. Pittsburgh Brass Co 

Oct. '90. 


The endeavor is to make this Department, including more than 300 distinct sets, and which occupies the 
entire Fourth Floor of our Brooklyn House, especially advantageous to Housekeepers, alike as regards well 
chosen forms and decorations as a large range of prices, thus offering a good selection to those having in view 
the purchasing of a set from $25 to $100, as well as at $200, $300 and upward. 

The simple though artistic pattern here illustrated, Fleitr-de-lis design, is from the well known works of 

the Messrs. Copeland of England — a guarantee for quality in 
every regard. A Dinner Set of 97 pieces is valued at $25, and 
120 pieces $35, while the same with rich, heavy, gold edge handles 
and feet is $65 and $90. 

HEP" This design, as well as more than twenty others, is kept in 
"open stock," and offered in any number of pieces where detached 
sets or matchings are required. 

The display of French China Sets — well chosen selections from 
ten or more of the leading manufacturers of France — is, we believe, 
unparalleled. Worthy of notice is one prettily decorated and gilded 
for $28. 

Catalogues supplied containing some indications of Rich Table 
Glass, Solid Silver, Clocks, Bronzes, etc. 






The very best Lamp 
in the -world for burn- 
ing kerosene. 




Explosion impossi- 
ble, burns open like 
gas, gives a powerful 
silvery light, superior 
to gas for reading or 
sewing, just the lamp 
for cottages ; no break- 
ages of glass ; quite 
suitable for wedding 
or Christmas presents. 
Send $5.00 to the 

Hitchcock Lamp Co. 


And we will deliver with- 
out any other charge, one 
nickeled lamp to any ad- 
dress in the United States. 
Send for illustrated Cata- 
logue giving description. 


JHSk Be sure "Hitchcock Lamp ' is 

:liiiBSliii!!S:£§!liB stamped on the burner 
■"■ to be genuine. 

A Piece of Sterling Silver 

inlaid in the backs of spoons 

and forks at points most ex- E™yBfI 


posed to wear and then plated 

Guaranteed to contain 
more -silver than any " Quad- 
ruple Plate," and to wear 
25 years. 

More durable than light 
Sterling Silver and not half 
the cost. 

l$e sure to see that each 1 
piece you purchase bears the 
trade-mark (o Ied wards^ 

These will last a lifetime. 




New-York Salesroom, 23 JOHN STREET. 


D. L. DOWD'S HEALTH EXERCISER, for braw-wokkers and sedentary people 

Gentlemen, Ladies, Youths ; the Athlete or Invalid. A complete gymnasium. Takes up but 6 inches 
S square floor-room ; new, scientific, durable, comprehensive, cheap. Indorsed by 20,000 physicians, 
% lawyers, clergymen, editors and others now using it. Send for illustrated circular, 40 engravings ; no 
I* charge. 

D. L Dowd's School for Scientific, Physical and Vocal Culture, for ladies, gentlemen and 

children. If you desire a robust, healthy physique and a voice of rare charm and power, you can surely obtain them by 
application of scientific principles. By this method, a singing voice for the practically voiceless and a sound body for 
the unhealthful is possible. The lost voice can positively be restored. Remember, "knowledge is power." Send for 
prospectus, or call. 

RuleS for F aCial Development. Will mail you rules to develop muscles of cheeks and neck to make them 
plump and rosy, fully illustrated, for 50 cents. Also rules for Dumb-bells to develop every muscle of the limbs and body 
for 50 cents additional, fully illustrated. Prof. D. L. DO WD, Scientific, Physical and Vocal Culture, 9 East 14th St. N. Y. 

"Seeing is Believing." 


And the best lamp ever made, like 
Aladdin's of old, a "wonderful 
lamp " ! A lamp absolutely non- 
explosive and unbreakable, 

which gives a clear, soft, brilliant 
white light of 85 candle power/ 
Purer and brighter than gas light, 
softer than electric light, more cheer- 
ful than either. That lamp is 

" The Rochester." 

And with it there is no smoke, no smell, no broken chimneys, no 
flickering, no sweating, no climbing up of the flame, no "tantrums" 
nor annoyance of any kind, and it never needs trimming. Its 
founts (oil reservoirs) being tough-rolled seamless brass, with cen- 
tral draft, it is absolutely unbreakable, and as safe as a 
tallow candle. 

Only five years old and over two millions in tise. It must be a 
GOOD lamp to make such a telling success. Indeed it is, for 
lamps may come and lamps may go, but the " Rochester " shines 
on forever. We make over 2000 artistic varieties, — Hanging and 
Table Lamps, Banquet, Study, Vase and Piano Lamps, — every 
kind, in Bronze, Porcelain, Brass, Nickel and Black Wrought Iron. 

Ask the lamp dealer for it. Look for the trade-mark stamp 
"The Rochester." If he hasn't the genuine Rochester and 
the style you want, or if no lamp-store is near, send to us for free 
illustrated catalogue (and reduced price-list), and we will box and 
send you any lamp safely by express, right to your door. 

ROCHESTER LAMP CO. 43 Park Place, New-York. 

The Largest Lamp Store in the World. 



A steady, white 

and strong 


A cleanly, simple, 

easily manipulated, 



These words mean much. 
To learn more, write to 
Daylight Lamp Co., 38 
Park Place, New York, or 
to Craighead & Kintz Co. 
the manufacturers, 33 Bar- 
clay St. 

" A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever." 

Not true of table china, however, unless : 

a. Each piece is carefully glazed in every part. 

b. The body is thoroughly Vitrified so that when chipped it washes 

white; chipped places on tra?isluceut ware always wash white. 

c The glazing will not split into fine cracks after a few months' use. 
Our "Venetian" China is right in all these points. 
Dealers have it or will get it for you. If not, write us. 


Trenton, N. J. 



is guaranteed for Table, Toilet and Ornamental Silver, by the 
employment of electro-silicon for cleaning and polishing. 
This article has the merit, peculiar to itself, of imparting to 
all Gold and Silver surfaces the highest degree of brilliancy 
without scratching or wearing, even under frequent and long 
continued use. 

A trial quantity can be had for the asking. 
Your address is all that's necessary. 

Full-sized Box, post-paid, 15 cts. in stamps. Sold Everywhere. 



Beauty, Brilliancy, 
Safety & Economy. 

Gives a Steady White 

Superior in Workmanship 

and Finish. 
Prices Lower than any 

other Lamp of equal merit. 

Several attractive styles. 

|3P* Ask your dealer for it. 

Take no Other. 


New York, Chicago, Boston. 


Best Laundry Starch in the World. 

Housekeepers find the 

Electric Lustre Starch 

a great blessing. It 
saves Time, Labor and 
Trouble; makesshirts, 
Collars and Cuffs look 
like new. Will not 
stick to the iron. Sold 
by Grocers all over 
the United States. 
Don't attempt to keep 
house without it. 

Mrs. Frances Corse, wife of Gen. John M. Corse, the hero of 
Allatoona, and Postmaster of Boston, says : 

in my laundry and it gives great satisfaction. It is 
excellent and labor saving." Thousands testify to 
its Avonderful merits. 

Order a Package of Your Grocer to-day. 


Boston, Mass., IT. S. A. 

&& i \f!&fi>81§W 







^ §Ki 


y, a^ 




Hx£ ?^^S^^^^^^| 

Beautiful and Lasting for ORNAMENTING 




AT SMALL, COST. Send for Illustrated Cata- 
logue and Prices. Samples by mail 25 cents. 
WA VnilUfl Sole Agent, 944 ARCH ST. 

FREEZER makes more and better Cream from the 
same materials than any other. For pamphlet and full particulars, 

Shepard Hardware Co., Mammoth Foundry, Buffalo, N. Y. 

MILWAUKEE COLLEGE. Milwaukee, Wis. For 
Young Women. C. R. KINGSLEY, President 


^ FOR V 






By Helen Ekin Starrett, in The Forum. 

" Thousands who are now in shops and other organized 
industries would really prefer work in homes, if only the 
heavy, grimy, malodorous, clothes-destroying work of cook- 
ing and laundering were not required and expected of them." 

Well — if this is true there's a good- 
time coming for girls and the mistress too ; 
for women (by millions) are coming to 
know, that Pear line saves the clothes on 
your back as well as the clothes in the wash ; 
the paint on your walls — the sheen of silver 
— the lustre of glass and reduces the labor 
— drudgery— health breaking— temper and 
comfort wearing work of washing and 
cleaning to almost nothing. Besides 
—the girl — the mistress — or both — 
are better satisfied with the results. It 
cleanses — restores original colors — but hurts nothing, not even delicate 
skin — luxurious for bathing — be among the bright ones and use Pear line. 

^m Peddlers and some unscrupulous grocers will tell you, " this is as good as " 

■ lO'Vi/'d Y*f~* ° r " the Same aS Pearline -" IT ' S FALSE— Pearline is never peddled, 
JL-# v_^ ▼ ▼ 6tl V-> and if your grocer sends you something in place of Pearline, do the honest 

thing— send it back, 19 2 JAMES PYLE. New York. 


SLIDES, &c, 

Send for Catalogue. 


728 Chestnut Street, 





^^ * gj 





ovnU5YEMS o y«ET 

Bath Cabinet. Rolling Chair. 

A CURE for A Priceless 
Rheumatism, Boon to those 
Liver and Skin who are unable 
Diseases, Etc. to walk. 



BACK RESTS, BIDETS, and other 


Descriptive Lists Sent Free. 

Our Chairs are used in the U. S. Hospitals. 








Catalogue Hailed on Application. 

1 1 Fifth Ave., cor. 1 6th Street 


Ottoman Piano Stool 

A Beautiful Article that will Match 
your Finest A rt Furniture. 

Seven Points of Superiority. 

Full description and price given by 

S. C. JOHNSON, Racine, Wis. 



Yes, Ethel, my Marchal & Smith Piano is a beautiful 
Instrument. The tone is so sweet and pure, the action 
so fairy-like, and the finish so elegant that not another 
thing can I wish for. I wrote to the factory, and told 
them just what I wanted, and they selected it and sent 
it to me for trial, agreeing to take it back and pay all the 
freights if I did not like it. But I could not be better 
suited if I had a thousand to choose from. My dear, 
when you want a Piano or an Organ send for their 
Catalogue. They have 

PIANOS from $150 to $1500 and 

ORGANS from $35 to $500. 
Write to The Marchal & Smith Piano Co, 
235 East 21st Street, New-York. 




The Robt. Mitchell Furniture Co., Cincinnati, 
O., make and sell Wood Mantels in all the Hard 
Woods at prices ranging from $6.00, and ship 
them by freight to any railroad station, ready to 
be put in place by an ordinary carpenter. 

An illustrated catalogue showing many styles 
will be sent free to any address upon receipt of six 
cents in stamps, for postage. 


Cincinnati, Ohio. 

THE KINDERGARTEN, A monthly for home 
and school, science lessons, stories, games, occupations, 
etc. Invaluable for primary teachers and mothers. 
$1.50 a year. On trial, 3 months, 30 cts. 

Alice B. Stockham & Co., 161 La Salle St., Chicago. 

j hartshqrn;s s^eIuIsj 

Beware of Imitations. A ^—sV^ 

NOTICE ■. l/^Z-tr 1 ^ on 


'fir *S AND GET 



Well secur- 
ed by our fine 
Lock (your 
choice, a Key- 
less or a Key- 
ed lock). A 
Box of this sort 
is a real neces- 
sity for every 
business man 
and woman. 
Many thou- 
sands have 

been distributed as Christmas presents, etc. We have prepared an 
extra stock for this season's demand. Small sizes are delivered by 
mail: larger ones by express, and we prepay the charges as far 
south as Chattanooga, or west to St. Louis or Chicago, on receipt 
of the price of the Box only. Cat. showing sizes, prices, etc., free. 
Applicants who enclose 3 cents in stamps will receive, with the Cat., 
our new nickeled steel Pocket Tool, bearing our address, and al- 
ways acceptable. 

MILLER LOCK CO. Lock Mfrs., 

4533 Tacony St., Frankford, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Holds books open for sitting or lying down 
reading. Dictionary turned before you by 
slightest touch of the hand, avoids unhealth- 
ful habit of bending forward when reading. 
Shipped to all parts of the world. Send for 
Illustrated Catalogue. 

The Holi.oway Co., 

Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. 


FRANKLIN H. HOUGH, Washington, 
D. C. |^~ No attorney's fee until Patent 
is obtained. Write for INVENTOR'S GUIDE. 


World's ONLY Manufactory of 

EXCLUSIVELY.— ALL Styles and Sizes for use of 

Self- and secondary hand-propulsion, in-doors 
and out. Comfort, durability, and ease of move- 
ment unequaled. Sole Makers of the Patented 
" Rolling Chairs" pushed about at the Centennial. 
For Illustrated Catalogue, send stamp, and men- 
tion The Century. 


Fully equal to any in the market for com- 
fort, strength, durability and finish. 


203 Quarry Street, Phila., Pa. 

Send for price-list. 

J *I ilfA T flfty I ll B l ^ 6o assortec ' beautiful Silk and Satin pieces, 
Ti y i T ^ BB A »1| it il enough to cover 500 square inches, 25c; best 
pieces and larger pack, $t. Lemarie's Silk Mill, Little Ferry, N. J. 

If the Door has the 


by having it tried from the outside, 
while you are occupying ToilGt 
or Bath Room. Nor do you in 
turn ANNOY OTHERS by fry- 
ing the door, supposing the apart- 
ment VACANT. 
The sign (under glass) moves with the bolt. 

styles, Brass, Bronze, Nickel and Japan 

Cts. up, prepaid. 

Send for illustrated Price-List. 


from 60 


of Rolling, Reclining and Carrying- Chairs, Commodes, Earth Closets, Back Rests, 
Bed Trays, Crutches, Sanitary Rubber Goods, Hospital Supplies, Invalids' Beds, 
Invalids' Tables, Bidets, Comfortable Reading Appliances, Revolving Book Cases, etc. 

Correspondence invited. Illustrated catalogue of 100 pages free. 

Address SARGENT MANUFACTURING CO. 814 Broadway, N. Y. 

jp* f\ ■ I Ski W% A fit companion for the 
rUUNU folding bed. 

The only combination Dressing Bureau and Wash- 
stand in the world. 
Just the thing for a room which is 
"Compelled a double debt to pay: 

A sleeping-room at night, a sitting-room by day." 
We also manufacture Combination Bureaus, Wash- 
stands and Wardrobes: three pieces in one. 

The best and cheapest furniture in the market for 
Hotels, Apartment and Boarding-houses, Summer 
Cottages, Rooms in Schools, Colleges, Sanitariums, 
etc. This engraving shows a room 10 feet square. 

Wiih ordinary furniture it would be too crowded 
even for a bed-room. With Princess Case, and a 
folding bed, it is a cosy and convenient sitting-room 
when both pieces are closed, and a satisfactory bed- 
room when both pieces are open as here shown. 

For sale l>y best retail furniture dealers in all 
prominent cities Where not carried by Dealers, 
will be shipped direct. Address 

Grand Rapids, Mich. 


Look at something neat, durable and practical. i 

Paneled Iron Ceilings for Churches, Halls and Stores. Embossed Steel Ceilings for Offices 
and Residences. Either can he put on over old hroken Plaster Ceilings. 


FAIR NOTICE: — In order to protect my customers from undue 
duplication of their houses (it oftens happens that a handsome and 
convenient house is duplicated all over a neighborhood, much to 
the annoyance of the owner), and to protect myself from imitators 
who do not scruple to adopt my designs as their own, I have pat- 
e/ited 7iiy designs. 

This empowers me to require that every builder from my designs 
shall procure a license. Even those houses modified considerably 
but showing essential features of my designs need a license. 

These terms are not hard for the owner. Indeed, they are much 
to his advantage. Nothing is charged for licenses — they are sent 
free when working plans and specifications 
are ordered. The only people seriously 
affected are some builders, who never want 
owners to see perfect plans and specifica- 
tions and to know how a good 
'house should be built. 


'?2£~ READ BELOW. 

Mr. Shoppell has a full list of Classified Designs (estimates 
guaranteed) — the most helpful aids ever devised for the intending 
builder. Every design is beautifully printed on plate paper (size of 
page, io 1 ^ x 14 inches), with full descriptions and floor plans. Each 
set or " class" is inclosed in a handsome cloth portfolio, as follows: 
* Portfolio of $1,000 Houses, 30 designs, Price |2 















6,000 " 








* The first Portfolio contains designs that cost as low as $500, 
$600, $700 and $800. 

Any 3 of the above Portfolios foi $5; any 7 for $10; the complete 
set (12) for $15. Pamphlet of specimen pages, 50c. Large bound 
volume containing over 200 designs selected from the portfolios of 
various costs, $5, returnable if not satisfactory. When working 
plans and specifications are ordered a rebate of the amount paid for 
Portfolios or books (to the extent of $5) is allowed. Address R. W. 
Shcu'pell, Architect, 63 Broadway, New- York. Mention Century. 

Send for Sample. 


164 High St. Boston, Mass. 



100 pages. 40 illustrations. 20 short chapters. 

Over 100,000 copies of this little book have been sold at ten cents 
each. We now propose to put it in the hands of persons contem- 
plating building. Send your address, and we will mail you a copy 
free, together with our lithographic advertisement, which, in colors, 
represents the various styles of Metal Shingles and Roofing we 

510 East 20th Street, New -York City. 

PUBLIC and private buildings are now plas- 
tered with Adamant Wall Plaster. No more 
falling ceilings. No more crumbling walls, with 
broken and defaced decorations. Adamant is not 
a guess-work mixture of lime, hair and sand ; it 
is a machine-made mortar put up in bags, ready- 
to be used at any season of the year by mixing with 
water only. Bursting water pipes do not affect it, 
it 's the best fire-resisting plaster known. Any 
mason can apply it, and 300,000 buildings in this 
country plastered within three years is the only 
testimonial we need offer. 

Apply to the following Companies for further 

The Adamant Manufacturing Co. Syracuse, N. Y. 
The Keystone Plaster Co. Philadelphia, Pa. 
The Keystone Plaster Co. Pittsburgh, Pa. 
The N. W. Adamant Co. Minneapolis, Minn. 
The N. W. Adamant Co. West Superior, Wis. 
The N. W. Adamant Co. Milwaukee, Wis. 
The Michigan Adamant Co. Detroit, Mich. 
The Michigan Adamant Co. Grand Rapids, Mich. 
The New Jersey Adamant Co. Harrison, N. J. 

Plastered -with A damani. 
The United Adamant Co. Baltimore, Md. 
The St. Louis Adamant Co. St. Louis, Mo. 
The New England Adamant Co. Boston, Mass. 
The Ohio Adamant Plaster Co. Columbus, Ohio. 
The Ohio Plaster Co. Cleveland, Ohio. 
The Adamant Plaster Co. Omaha, Neb. 

The Indiana Adamant Co. Indianapolis, Ind. 

The Connecticut Adamant Co. New Haven, Conn. 
The South Eastern Adamant Co. Savannah, Ga. 

The Chicago Adamant Co. Chicago, 111. 

The Adamant Mfg. Co. Toronto, Canada. 


Improve your home with our 


Remarkably low prices. 
Enormous assortment of styles Honorable treatment. We can refer 
to hundreds of well-pleased customers in every section of the 
U. S. Our prices range from excellent IiUSTltE papers at tie. a roll to 
elegant IllIDKSCENT EMBOSSED GOL.DS at 35c. For 
8 cts. postage will send to any address, samples with borders to match 
A.E.DIAiYIENT & CO. 1 206 Market St. Philadelphia, p a 




Designs in satinwood, mahogany, oak, cherry, etc., Louis XVI., 
Moorish, Japanese and other styles to harmonize with wood-work. 
Wood Carpeting at low cost. THESE FLOORS ARE 
directions and plan with each floor. Send for Book of Designs. 


& 12* W. 23d St 



Mni „ vAni,- »-x OF SUPERIOR. MERIT* 



Is the Latest Invention in Swiss Musical Boxes. It 
is the Sweetest and Most Perfect Instrument for the 
Parlor. Any number of tunes can he obtained for it. 

The Largest Stock of Musical Boxes in America. Send 4 cent 
stamp for Illustrated Catalogue. 



1 <^M= -^ ^' 

@Br/^pFoF?dT*Oii^£ : R.T aARCH g^---^"-^ 
Houses from Maine to California are successfully stained wuh 


Send for sheaf of sketches of creosoted houses, and for samples 
on wood. 

SAMUEL CABOT, Sole Manufacturer, 
70 Kilby St. Boston, Mass. 


i-' I ! 

Oct. '90. 


Patentee siimI 



74 West 33d Street, New -York. ^ 

English Venetian Blinds. 

Rolling Partitions. 

Rolling Venetian Blinds. 


This House for $800. 


Second edition of Houses and Cottages enlarged 
from 33 to 50 designs, many entirely new. The designs 
range from $300 up to $6000 ; principally of low cost ; 
nine under $1000; twenty under $2000. Full description 
of each and price of material given that estimates are 
made upon. Don't Fail to see it if you intend building. 
Price, $1.25, post-paid; 12 sample designs (Cottage 
Portfolio) for 25 cents (two-cent stamps taken for 
uneven change). Size of Book 8x 10 inches, 102 pages. 

D. S. HOPKINS, Grand Rapids, Mich. 


This is the Shingle Stain which has produced the 
i>eautiful velvety effect on the houses at Newport, Bar 
Harbor, Lenox and other places in the United States 
where the Stain has not faded or washed off. 

Send for sample boards to Dexter Brothers, 55 Broad 
Street, Boston, Mass. 

The following act as our agents and carry a stock of 

our Stains : 

H. M. Hooker & Co., 57 West Randolph Street, Chicago. 
Aquila Rich Paint Co., 84 William Street, New- York. 
Felton, Ra' & Sibley, Philadelphia. 
Piatt & Thornburgh, St. Louis. 
Campbell & Cutler, Kansas City. 
W. W. Lawrence & Co., Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Hewson-Herzog Supply Co., St. Paul and Minneapolis. 
A. Baldwin & Co., New Orleans, La. 



M fe.'.V / ■§. NATIVE 



Beautiful a<»f Durable Floors 


I addbess S.GJ9r1NS9M- RAC| NEwi5. 




If you are about to build or repair use a steel 
ceiling. It will last forever. Can be applied 
right over old plaster. Send for catalogue, 
designs, photograph, estimates, etc. 

i LLUM & CO. 428 Washington Street, N. Y. City. 

Sole agents for the Kinnear Pat. Paneled Ceiling. 

Sheet Metal Ornaments, 



Made of Brass, Copper and Zinc. 
Galvanized Iron Cornices, Building 

Fronts, etc. Send for Catalogue & Prices to 


206 Depot Street, Salem, Ohio. 
J. T. WAGNER, Sales Agent, 108 Chambers Street, N. Y. City. 


For Fire-proofing, Deadening Sound and Insulation of Heat and Cold 
in Residences, Cold Storage and Refrigerating Rooms. 

It is Fire-proof, Frost-proof, Sound-proof, Vermin-proof, 
Indestructible, Odorless. 

Illustrated Pamphlet and Sample Free. 


Chicago, 111. Cleveland, Ohio. St. Louis, Mo. 

That Beautiful, Ornamental and Oecorative Wood-work 
for Doors, Transoms, Arches and Windows known as MOORISH FRET- WO I?tl£ is manufactured (only) by 

C. S. RANSOM Sc CO. Cleveland, Ohio. 

There is no limit of design into which this work can be made. It is made of any domestic or imported woods, finished natural, stained 
or in white and gold or bronzes. All leading decorating, drapery or furniture houses will-supply you. Patented as an article of manufac- 
ture September 15, 1885. New-York Office, 10 West 28th Street. 

Hot Air Furnaces have been in disfavor with 
some by reason of the many imperfect construc- 
tions used. The Magee Boston Heaters will give 
better satisfaction at a less cost than any hot water 
or steam apparatus ever used. We guarantee 
them in every respect when properly put in; and 
when desirable to apply hot water it can be used 
in combination. Send for descriptive circulars 
with references. 

Magee Ranges and Heating Stoves have also 
a world-wide reputation. 


32 to 38 Union St. Boston. 86 Lake St. Chicago. 

Pure Air Ventilating Grate. 






Pure fresh air from out of doors positively 
heated. It will warm more cubic feet than any 
grate ever before offered to the public; the extra 
heat from hot-air chamber is greater than that 
from a iox 14 register of the best furnaces. Fire 
maintained without trouble. Largest variety of 
tiles for fire-places and floors in New England. 
Manufacturers of brass and wrought -iron fenders, 
andirons, etc. Send 10c. stamp for 200-page 
catalogue or stamp for circular only. 


18 Beacon St. Boston, Mass. 

Hot Water Heaters & Warm Air Furnaces 



Thousands of these success- 
ful goods in use all over the 
country. Acknowledged the 
best made. 


Perfect" Hot Water Heater. 

Send for Testimonials and Circulars, 

RICHARDSON & BOY N TON CO. Manufacturers. 
232 & 234 Water St. New-York. 84 Lake St. Chicago. 

Nothing is more essential to health than an even, comfortable temper- 
ature in our homes, offices and public buildings, and how this may be secured 
is a question of great importance and of general interest. Various devices 
for heating have been employed, grates, stoves and hot-air furnaces having 
been extensively used, but the superiority of steam or water for the distri- 
bution of heat is clearly demonstrated by the extent to which these two 
agents have taken precedence over all other methods. Great progress has 
been made during recent years in the appliances for their use, especially in 
Radiators. A new era has dawned. Indifference to appearance no longer 
exists. Artistic beauty as well as efficiency is now demanded and is 
available in our unrivaled assortment of steam and water Radiators, which 
comprises both the plain and ornamental of the latest styles and most 
pleasing designs, and in an almost endless variety of sizes. 


Works and General Office, Buffalo, N. Y. 

Chicago, III. 

55 Fifth Avenue. 

Boston, Mass. 

42 Oliver Street 

New -York, N. Y. 
94 and 96 Centre Street. 

The Glenwood Range is 
the King of the Kitchen. 

The Weir Stove Co. of Taun- 
ton, Mass., are the makers. 


Send for Catalogue covering all the scientific 
points and 

Utica, N. Y. 

The Hopson & Chapin MT g Co., of New London, 
Conn., will take pleasure in showing their plans and 
estimates for warming any building by Hot Water. 

Radiators may be placed in the 
room to be warmed, or the warmed 
air may enter through Registers. 

This Company's work has been 
in use for several years, and refer- 
ences to gentlemen of standing will 
be given. The system is very old, and with our modern improvements has 
come to be known as the perfection of modern heating. 

Heating of Homes* a, Specialty, 






Isaac Coffin & Co 52 Sudbury Street, Boston. 

Steam Engineering Co. 704 Arch Street, Phila. 

Dewstoe & Schneider, .... i 59 Seneca Street, Cleveland. 

Webster & Meathe, 73 Shelby Street, Detroit. 

L. H. Prentice Co. ------ 205 Van Buren Street, Chicago. 

Allan Black, St. Paul, Minn. 

DUNNING Patent Wrought-lron BOILER 



Low Pressure Steam or Hot-Water Heating, 

And insures a warm House night and day. Over 15,000 in use. 

Keeps steam up constantly. Also Steam Engines and 

Boilers of all kinds and Machinery generally. 



e mahk. IB^ No. 67 Exchange Street, Geneva, N. Y 


Send for Illustrated Catalogue with full description. 




Boynton" Hot Water Heater 

(12) Twelve Sizes. No Brick-work required. 

These Heaters are operated in a most successful manner in many Residences, 

Schools, Apartment Houses and Greenhouses, and are pronounced by 

scientific experts the most effective, economical, and of the best 

mechanical construction, of any on the market. Also sole 

manufacturer of the celebrated Boynton 

Furnaces, Ranges, etc. 



47 & 49 Dearborn St. CHICAGO, ILL. 207 & 209 Water St. NEW-YOKK. 


Residence of Hon. JAS. McMILLAN, U. S. Senator, Grosse Pointe, Mich. 




It cannot cause FIRES or EXPLOSIONS. 
Its warmth is the most EQUABLE and HEALTHFUL. 
It is absolutely CLEANLY and NOISELESS. 

Send for Illustrated Boote, 



One-half cent per hour per burner is the average cost 
in localities convenient to gasoline market. 
Has been in use twenty years without a single accident. 

Send for Illustrated JBooh, 

Detroit Heating and Lighting Co. 

310 Wight Street, Detroit, Mich. 

CHICAGO, 8S Lake St. 
BOSTON, 42 Pearl St. ST. LOUIS, 508 N. 4-th St. 



//Ar/OtfAL//OTltfArE/?//£AT£/? Co. 


BOSTON. 195 & 137 Fort Hiuw Sq.. 

CHICAGO. 108 lake 5rfttST, 


Warm Air 
rz(\ Furnaces 


Tor Information Apply To Your Sham 
Hiter or Furnace Dealer or send For 
Illustrated Pamphlet, mailed Tree. 

FimER&WARRf N @. 


Simplest and Best. 

Automatic, Economical and Durable, 

Ho Engineer 


Skilled Labor 
is required. 

Burns either 

Hard or Soit 


Agents in the 
trade wanted 


Fiske's Patents. 

and Estimates 

Duplex Steam Heater Co., 

23 Bethune St., New York. 



56 Styles and Sizes — Burn Hard or Soft Coal. 


These Boilers have a high reputation for Staunchness, Durability 
and Safety, and are great COal savers. Minimum Friction and 
Maximum Velocity only obtained by Vertical Water Circulation. 
Send for new 150-page book giving full particulars and a great deal of 
yaluable information on modern Heating and Ventilation, with plans and 
tables for correct hot-water work. Mailed free. Address 

HERENDEEN MFG. CO. 10 Elm Street, Genera, N. Y. 


" Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, 
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, 
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, 

And the year smiles as it draws near its death." 

— " October" William Cullen Bryant. 

" Golden October " is an ever-welcome month, 
and the evenings at home are rendered perfect 
when that home is the possessor of the 


It brings joy, gladness, contentment and health. 
f Probably you are not aware that we have pub- 


lished two books of sterling educational merit, 



Do not fail to send your address, and we will mail you copies free. 

Mention The Centukv. 

Gurney Hot-Water Heater Company, 

Main Office, 163 Franklin Street, corner Congress, Boston, Mass. 


Cory's Excelsior Gas-Tight Furnaces. 

Seventeen Sizes, Portable and Masonry. 

From $35.00 to $125.00. 

Pure air is necessary for Health. The supply is always outside 
the house. When heated over the surface of a GAS-TIGHT 
FURNACE, with large radiation, the best results are obtained. 
The modern radiator (steam or water) simply raises the temperature 
of the impure air in the room in which it is placed. Ask local dealer 
for estimate, or address for circulars 

UZAL CORY & CO. 210 and 212 Water Street, New- York. 
Oct. »90. 














19 Sizes for Steam. 14 Sizes for Hot 
Water. 15 Sizes for Soft Coal. 









For Furnace, Steam or Hot- Water Heaters. 

The heater positively controlled by the temperature of the living rooms of the house. 

An Even Temperature maintained at all times. No running up and doiun stairs td 
change drafts of the furnace. No colds resulting from uneven temperature. No waste of 
fuel from over-heated furnaces. 

Solid comfort during the winter months. Write for illustrated catalogue. Agents wanted 


The New England Fire and Heat Regulator Co., Hemenway Building, 10 Tremont 
Street, Boston, sole agents for New England. 

What is more aggravating than leaky 
valves, whether in House, Office or Fac- 
tory? If you wish to avoid annoyance, 
INSIST on having 

Accept no valves as JENKINS BROS. 
unless stamped with our " Trade-Mark," 
like cut. 

TIJotin St. New-York. 54 Dearborn St. Chicago. 
21 North Fifth St. Phila. 105 Milk St. Boston. 


Write for our illustrated thirty-two page circular 
of the celebrated 


We will ship the ALDINE to any responsible 
person under positive guarantee of our 

claims. See our advertisement in September 
Century, and address 

ALDINE MFG. CO. Grand Rapids, Mich. 




^ HBBa ^^^ Temperature Regulator 


11 ' i.'iiftv. 1 '" 

faim iiiiwwmiimiiHil i 


Ul "lUUU lun uiui„|| i |i m)ll ^ )U|) ' u j | ;jj | jjj]] ||1 | || i 1 m 


Automatically controls the dampers of a Heating Apparatus without any atten- 
tion "whatever. 


Vapor Pressure formed by ordinary house temperature does the work. Applicable to 

Low Pressure Steam, Hot Water and Furnace. 
Adds fifteen per cent, to the capacity of any Hot Water System, and absolutely 


Maintains a uniform temperature at all times and saves fuel. 

Write for descriptive circular and price-list. 

W. P. POWERS, 79 Erie Street, Chicago, 111. 


Before making your contract for heating your building, send for 

catalogue of the 




Combined with Direct Air Heat. 


Main Office and Works, SYRACUSE, N. Y. 

Branches : 


Canadian Works, TORONTO. 

in all large cities and towns 


of the United States. 

v L> * I * ■- J \ 


To use a valve that must be opened or closed by hand, but make your 
foot save your back, wrists and temper. 

Use W. E. WOOD'S Patent 




For Direct Radiators. Radical Improvements for i8go. Mech- 
anism simplified one-half. Strong points of economy. Prices 
Reduced. Valve seats with the pressure, and the greater the 
pressure the tighter it will close. Seat is perpendicular, and 
chips and dirt fall away from it. A touch of the foot wil) turn the 
heat on or off. No packed joints to leak on floor or carpet. 
Patented in the United States and Canada. Circulars and en- 
dorsements on application. 


Territorial Agencies : Geo. K. Paul & Co., Boston. Pan- 
coast & Maule, Philadelphia. McIntosh, Huntington & Co., 
Cleveland. James B. Clow & Son, Chicago. 


An Elegant Russia Iron Open Stove 

or Portable Fireplace, 
Especially desirable for the cool mornings 
and evenings of this season of the year, as 
^well as in the winter months. Can be fitted 
for wood, coal and gas. Send for circular. 

Bay State Furnaces, Ranges and Stoves, 




The Berkshire Hills 

For the cure of Cancer in all its forms, without the use of the 
knife. Book with complete information mailed free. Address 
Dr. W. E. BROWN & SON, North Adams, Mass. 


— FOR — 

Public Buildings, 

Residences, etc. 


Mercer's Patent Sectional Boiler, 
Gold's Patent Sectional Boiler, 

Mill's Patent Safety Boiler, 
The Union Hot Water Radiator, 

Reed's Cast-iron Radiators, 
Indirect Pin Radiators. 

The H. B. SMITH CO. 

137 Centre St. New-York. 

Foundry, Westfield, Mass. 


The " Gorton." 


Don't decide 

Until you have 





Iflie Latter without Smoke. 
Call and see for yourself. 


34 and 3G West Monroe St. Chicago. 
197-203 Congress St. Boston. 
96 Liberty St. New- York. 




has an upright fire surface ; fire crosses the tubes 
three distinct times, thus insuring perfect combus- 
tion and consequent fuel economy ; tubes are easily 
reached and quickly cleaned in water or steam; 
rigidly guaranteed as represented or no pay. 
Send for new catalogue. 

Weston Engine Co. ( *£), Painted post, i. y. 

New -York Agent, H. J. BARRON, 74 Cortlandt St. 
Also builders of 


Correct in design, workmanship and price. 


Q. How shall I heat my house ? Ans. By Steam or Hot Water. 
Q. What Boiler shall I use ? Ans. Morgan's. 

This is a very important matter and one that requires careful consideration. 
If you wish to avoid annoyance investigate our late improved methods and 
apparatus. You will find them 


As you consult your Physician when in need of his services, consult us in this mat- 
ter. Give us particulars and our advice, based on long experience, will be given you. 

Illustrated Descriptive Pamphlet Free to All. 


The D. T. MORGAN BOILER CO. Manufacturers, 


THE COBB HEATING- 00. General Agents, 






J J£ 



Whenever and wherever you see this trade-mark 
upon a stove or range, you may be CERTAIN that 
it is the very best article that can be had for the 
price asked. Many imitations and substitutes will 
be offered you, which will be claimed to be "just 
as good" or better than the "GARLAND." Avoid 
them and look carefully for this trade-mark. 


Special New-York City Agents. 


110 to 116 Beekman St. 


We -will send, you our Catalogue, show- 
ing hundreds of designs, on receipt of 15 c, 
and one dollar's worth of good designs for 

soc; aii for 45 c. 87 Leonard Street, N. Y. 


Are a specialty with us, and our line includes 
Mantel Grates, Tile Grates, Ventilating Grates, 
and the celebrated Mayflower, a wood Frank- 
lin Stove, made directly 
from a set of old Colo- 
nial Patterns. It is a 
perfect substitute for a 
Brick Fire-place at one- 
third the cost. 

We are also makers 
of the Sanitas Plumbing 
Specialties, which em- 
body the important re- 
quisites of Science, Sim- 
plicity and Safety to a 
greater extent than any other system. We make 
a specialty of Sanitary Appliances, including 
Heating, Cooking, Ventilating and Plumbing 
Apparatus, and can give valuable suggestions 
to those building or remodeling their houses. 

Our goods are sold everywhere, by Stove- 
dealers and Plumbers. Wholesale houses at 
New- York, Chicago, San Francisco and Lon- 


48 to 54 Union Street, Boston, Mass. 

A complete garment worn under 
the corset or flannels, protecting 
, the clothing from perspiration 
Cheaper than dress shields, one 
pair doing the work of six. 
. J ^,nTrpTiT^^ , *«X Misses' bust measure, 28-33,$ .80 

pRUItUQpf^ VJ Ladies 34-39, 1.00 

M. DEWEY, Mnfi. ,1397 W. Monroe St., Chicago.} AGENTS 
Send Money by P. O. order. Catalogue Free. < WA-NTED. 


is what a lady said after using an 


"It works so easy I do my work in half the time it took with my old wringer, saves my 
clothes, and doesn't tire me out." IT WRINGS DRYER, WEARS LONGER and is 


constructed in this 'way to save labor. It is warranted against defects, requires no oil and 
never rusts, jj^©^ Agents Wanted Everywhere. 





Because we play "HALMA," and Papa has promised if we are real good children we shall have "BASILINDA, 
and delightful amusement by the author of " HALMA." "HALMA," the Popular Game, is just the thing for a Holiday 
"HALMA" is for sale everywhere, or sent free on receipt of $1.00. 

BASILINDA," that new 




E. I. HORSMAN, Publisher, 80 and 82 William St. N. Y. 


The Knack" 

Is our latest camera. Its name is 
fortunate. There 's knack in making 
a first rate camera that can be sold 
for $15. There's knack in taking a 
picture with any kind of a camera, so 
that, in supplying the camera and the 
knack at the same time, you ought to 
make a good picture. To be sure you 
get the Knack, send to the Scovill 
& Adams Co., 423 Broome street, 
N. Y., for descriptive circular. 


Top 189° 


QffDlNAfflE5 ••••- 






17 FffftWLlN 5t- 

-••D«SToN — 
.Dranch Houses • 

eVy/^t* P& — ■ T 591 WABASH * v ^ 5S^ 


I have published the most 
exquisite catalogue of 
Sportsmen's Supplies in the 
United States, and offer it, 
not only as a complete cata- 
logue, but also as a superb 
work of art and book of ref- 

700 illustrations by the 
most noted artists in Amer- 
ica render it of unique value 
to the sportsman, and yet 
no person, young or old, who 
loves recreation can fail to 
be benefited by a perusal of 
its pages. 

I make a nominal charge of 50 cents 
each for them, which is less than one- 
half actual cost, and put a coupon in 
each copy, that is received as 50 cents 
on the first dollar's worth of goods 

Send for the book and be 
convinced of its merits. Spec- 
imen pages gratis. 


I75 Bwdu&y NewYork 


Our Cameras Photograph the World. 

1 8,000 

Sold since Oct., 1886. 

Wonderful Photographic 

C. P. Stirn's Patent 



with the new shutter for time and 
instantaneous exposures, in a handsome polished black walnut, 
plush-lined Carrying Case. 

Size No. i, 6 in. Diameter, i lb. in Weight, Fine Nickel-plated 
Apparatus, with 6 Plates for 36 Pictures, 1% in. Diameter, $10.00. 

Size No. 2, 7 in. Diameter, 1 y x lb. in Weight, with 6 Plates for 
24 Pictures, 2^ in. Diameter, $15.00. 

This Camera is carried under the coat or vest, invisible to the eye, 
and is always ready and in focus. 

DEK," just out. Size of box, 4x4 x 6 in., makes pictures 3^ in. 
wide, 18 in. long, $30.00. 

We keep all the leading Detective and Amateur Cameras — 
Eclipse, Hawk-eye, Montauk, Tom Thumb, Waterbury, Model 
Improved, etc., with full instructions for beginners. 

Complete Outfits from $2.50 to $25.00 each. Everything in 
Photo Supplies and Chemicals. 

Illustrated Catalogues free. Send 5-cent stamp for 2 Vest Cam- 
era Pictures, or 10-cent stamp for 1 Panoramic Camera Picture to 



Sole Agents for C. P. Stirn's Patents. 

Soldered up, with hollow or thin 
drilled bands, flimsy and vermin- 
harboring. It answers " to sell," 
but it has no strength, and soon falls 
apart. The Hendryx cage is made 
of hard, brass spring wire, riveted 
(no solder or drilled bands, with no 
hiding-place for vermin). Buy it of 
your dealer. 

The Andrew B. Hendryx Co. 

New Haven, Conn. 



Tlie Best Multiplyers made. 

If your dealers cannot supply you send 
direct to factory, and we will tell you 
where you can get them. 

The Star Reel Works, 

Birmingham, Conn. 


Boys' & 




Save money by buying from the 
makers. Send for prices. 

New Haven Rattan Co. 
New Haven, Conn. 

^5 ^^ I ^^ Dv druggists. By Mail 25 cents. Circulars free. 
OULLrJ^ BIRCH & CO., 79 Washington St., Brookhu, IV. V. 



J8@="Speed, Comfort and Safety. 
Large Illustrated Catalogue sent Free to any Address. 

sxa:ivxi^or.i>, coiiviv. 

New Kodak Cameras. 

" You press the button, we do the rest" 

(or you can do it yourself.) 

Seven New Styles and Sizes 


Transparent Films. 

For Sale by all Photo. Stock Dealers. Send for Catalogue. 



If you intend to buy an exerciser or chest weight, don't buy the old style?. We have created 
a Revolution in this business. Just patented this year the o7ily exerciser in the -world that 
works without guide-rods or ivires. 

The simplest and cheapest on the market. 

Noiseless. — Put up at any height. — 6 inches floor room. — Suited for men, women or 
children — the invalid or athlete. 

The following letter is from the President of the Medical Society of the 
County of New -York. 
The Star Exerciser Co. , New - York : New - York > J une 2 4> 1890. 

I am familiar with nil the different kinds of Exercisers in use in the city, and do 
not hesitate to express my decided preference for the " New Star." In every 
respect I think it is the best. Yours truly, Alexander S. Hunter, M. D., 

32 East 2Qth Street. 

Send stamps for Pamphlets — 40 pages — no charge. 

"How to Get Strong." "How wc Trained our Children." "Exercise in Disease." 

Price of Exerciser, with book complete, $6. Old styles half price. 

STAR EXERCISER CO. 710 Broadway, New -York. 



If not, send at once for the Hawk-Eye Booklet, containing full description and sample picture. The perfection of Instantaneous 
Photographic Apparatus. 100 pictures without reloading. Prices, $15 to $50. When so desired we will do the developing and 
finishing. THE BLAIR CAMERA CO. Manufacturers, also makers of the Celebrated Blair Reversible Back, English 
Compact and other Cameras, Lenses and Accessories. Factories : 471, 473, 475, 477 and 485 TREMONT ST., Boston, Mass. 
Branches: 208 State St., Chicago, 111. ; 918 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. Also sold by Dealers in Photo. Goods everywhere. 










For Symme- 
try, Eeauty, 

Material and WorkmansJiip 

If your dealer does not have it, we will send it 
post-paid on receipt of price. 

Barrel Catch. 

mpossible to throw the 
barrel open when 
38 Cal. 
Using S.&W. 
C, F. 

Send 6c. in stamps for our 100-page illus- 
trated Catalogue of Guns, Rifles, Revol- 
vers, Police Goods, Sporting Goods of all 
kinds, etc. This Catalogue is so large the postage on it alone costs fc. 

JOHN P. LOYELL ARMS CO. Manufacturers, Boston, Mass 

For Sale 
by all 










!l:Hil:liliE'- ,,: ".i' 

Racine Automatic Oil-Burning Outfits. Fuel, either 
Crude Oil or Kerosene. Automatic Fire, Automatic Steam 
Regulator, Automatic Water Regulator, Automatic Engineer after 
starting. Automatic cleanliness and safety ; in short, a genuine 
Automatic Success. 

Also Racine Automatic Stationary Engines, same fuel. Also 
Racine Automatic Pumping Outfits, same fuel. 

Also manufacturers of the celebrated Racine Canoes, Rowboats 
and Hunting Boats (not automatic). Send stamp, specifying cata- 
logue desired, Yacht, Boat or Stationary Engine. 

THOMAS KANE & COMPANY, Chicago, 111. 



Hew or Second-Hand. 

We are manufacturers' or importer'8 aeenta for every cycle 
handled in this country, and constantly carry 400 to 500 wheels 
including many rare bargains in not only second-hand and shop 
worn machines, but also standard makes new wheels bought in 
job lots. Best makes bovs wheels cheap. Agents wanted. 
C AQV DA VMEMTC With no extra charge. Lowest prices 
LnO I In I IflCIl I guaranteed. Low ratesSby fast freight 


wheels and type-writers taken in exchange. Headquarters for all 
cycling goods; our superior inducements bring us orders regular- 
'y from every state and territory. Send for illustrated catalogue 
with latest second-hand and bargain list, introductory terms, etc. 

ROUSE, HAZARD & CO., 6 G St., Peoria, III. 



Kerosene Oil or Lime Light. 

For Entertainment or Instruction at home 

or in large halls. 


We can make Lantern Slides from your Negatives. 

Special faculties on the premises for the production 

of the very finest Colored Slides, Apparatus, &c. 

Catalogues Free. Correspondence Solicited. 
J. B. COLT & CO., 16 Beekman Street, New York. 


BOWDISH MFG. CO. Skaneateles, N. Y. 



Marine and Stationary Engines, Water-Tube Boilers, Etc. 

Send 8 cents for Catalogue. First-class work only. 




W[th KJ l E e R d ' s " ANCHOR BOXES" 

STONE Building Blocks 

" in miniature." 


Genuine only with Trade-! Mark" Anchob." 
One letter init of thousands : 
Cooper Union Institutk, New York, 
write to us, as follows : 

. . . Your Building Blocks have proved 
of the greatest advantage, usefulness, . . . 

Prices from 2o cts. upward. 
At all prominent Toy Dealers. 
FREE Illustrated Descriptive 
Catalogue sent upon application to 


310 Broadway, N"e"W York. 

Great Sport for Children. 
A Lever Propelling Sled. 

A wonderful success. Will distance 
a skater on ice and make lively 
speed on snow -path. A healthful 
exercise highly endorsed by physi- 
cians. Send for circular and prices 
to GrlFFORD MFGr. CO. 
Sole Mfrs. Watertown, N. Y. 


Is made on entirely new prin- 
ciples and produces the most de- 
sirable quality of tone combined 
with the greatest volume and 
carrying- power, making it the 
finest instrument extant for stage 
or parlor use. Price list mailed, free. 


SAVEMOJfET. Before you buy Typ T Sr- 


Send to A. W. GUMP & CO., Dayton, Ohio, for prices. New 
Bicycles at reduced prices and 400 second-hand ones. Difficult 
repairing. Bicycles, Guns and Type Writers taken in exchange. 


and invalids find FAIRY Tricycles the 
most practical. IJest for ladies and girls. 
Satisfaction gitarantecd. Athletic Goods 
and BICYCLES at retail, at lowest prices. 
Address FAY MFG. CO. Elyria, O. 

\ stf-MMR 




OrTA L OGue 


and The "Shui Sin Fan" or "Water Fairy 
Flower," as it is sometimes called by the 
Celestials, is a bulb, bearing in the greatest 
abundance silvery white flowers with a 
bright golden yellow cup in the centre of 
each. They are of entrancing beauty and 
emit a delicious perfume. It is grown by 
the Chinese to herald the coming of their 
New Year, and as a symbol of good luck. 
While the bulb can bo grown in a pot, 
the most novel and beautiful way is to grow 
it in a shallow bowl of water with enough 
pebbles to prevent it from toppling over 
when the immense spikes of flowers, are de- 
veloped. The short time required to bring 
the bu lbs into full bloom— 4 to 6 weeks after 
planting— and the fact that ft can be grown 
everywhere and by anybody, is certain to 
secure a permanent popularity for the 
"Sacred Lily." 

Large bulbs of the true sort direct 
to us irom China, -we offer for 26 cents 
each, $2.56 per dozen. Free by Mail. 

A dozen bulba, planted en* a -week, will gist a 
lupl'lf of flower* all Winter. 


Collectionof Bulbs li 

A carefully chosen Assortment of Bulba, equally ad. 
apteil for parlor or sitting room culture, or for planting 
in the open ground. This Is not only the cheapest 
collection ever offered, but the 'most satisfactory,* th« 
varieties selected are certain to produce a lavish pro* 
fusion of both bloom and fragrance. It contains.- — 

8 Hyacinths ; 6 Tulips; 4 Narcissus; 6 Crocus; 3 
California Butterfly Tulips ; 3 (Jlory of the Snow ; S 
Snowdrops; i Heur de lis; I Bermuda Easter Lily. 
35 Bulba in all. Free by Mall for $1.00; or with 9 
Chinese Site red Lily, $1.25. 

A new treatise, Henderson's Bulb Culture, (24 
pages) is sent gralit to all buyers of the full $1.25 
collection-. To others on receipt bftho price, 85 cent*. 

Our Autumn Catalogue of Bulbs, Plants and Seeds, the handsomest we 
have ever issued, mailed free on application* - 


W.iJIlJ. JI.MJII M-M-W lil . . » I t * I M M II 

LOVELY ^.f— 

Winter Flowers. — ™ 

SCILiLiA CLilTSI, a grand winter flower producing enormous 
clusters of bloom two to three feet in circumference. They are of 

lovely light and dark blue colors and borne in such marvelous clus- fM(«§^td!|»^y ' 
ters that it makes a plant of wonderful and striking beauty. The ' '< i; ' 

bulbs are very large and strong, and should be planted in a five or 
six inch pot and are absolutely sure to bloom freely during winter, i 

and the great heads of bloom keep perfect for weeks. Freezing 
does not harm it, and bulbs can also be planted in the garden this 
fall for blooming in early spring like Tulips. Try it, either for the ^§HMM 

house or garden. It is sure to bloom and create a sensation, there JPIh&% 

being nothing among winter flowers which will so astonish and 
please all beholders. Price of extra large Bulbs, sent at once by 
mail, post-oaid, 20 cents each; 3 for 50 cents; 7 for SI. 00. Also m B^^STv u 

15 Double and Single Tulips, mixed 50c. rak % "*2||i 

6 Double and Single Hyacinths, mixed 50c. Hr M w \1MPM 

5 Named Lilies, including Bermuda Easter Lily 50c. 

25 Crocus, fine mixed sorts 25c. 

Our "Jewel" Collection, 25 L.ovely Winter Bloom- 
ing Bulbs, all named, for only 50c. post-paid. 
DT P I A I DEL* CD For only $2. oo we will mail every- li 
OrC UIM L U I r L li • thing offered— Scilla, Tulips, Hya- 
cinths, Lilies, Crocus and Jewel Collection, in all 77 Elegant Bulbs. 

PATAIIIPIIC CDCC 0ur Large Illustrated Catalogue 

bMIMLUuUL friLL, of Fal1 Bu . ,bs and plants is now 

ready and will be sent free to all who ask for it. We offer the finest w W Mm '. ^K 

stock of Hyacinths, Tulips, Crocus, Narcissus, Lilies, Ixias, Free- ^V m% | ■▼y^* v 1 

sias, Alliums, Oxalis and other bulbs for winter and early spring ^^4f 1^^^ ^^ 

blooming. Also hardy plants, and rare new plants for winter bloom- 0|V[^0 .^-^Se 

ing. IL^F 3 Try our winter-blooming Orange, Morning Glories, \^J ^^"^ C ^GF ,,,, 

Black Calla, Orchid, etc. We also offer many new and rare fruits. \jSwm& 

Write at once ; these offers may not appear again. Address W&WJi 


Oct. '90. 

ns Co. N. Y, 

If You Ride a Horse or Bicycle, 

Use the Ready Riding Straps to hold yoU r trousers down. Worn 

The trousers hang naturally and cannot be injured by the wheel or chain 
Ask the dealers, or send 50 cents (stamps taken) to 

THE CARTER-SMITH CO. 520 Hamilton Building, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

on inner 
the foot, 
be seen, 

side of 
Fits any 





has been the standard among horsemen and 
owners of fine harness for over three genera- 
tions and is to day more popular than ever. 
Owners of harness cannot afford to use any- 
other dressing, for it not only gives a new and 
stylish finish to your harness, but, being a 
leather preservative, makes it wear twice as 
long. Instruct your coachmen or stablemen 
to use only FRANK MILLER'S 
that he does it. The effect upon your har- 
ness will show at once. All Dealers Sell It. 

We are offering our fine 
and elegant 

Backboards and Surreys 

(hung on our patent Half- 
Elliptic Spring), 
Buggies, Phaetons, Road Wagons, Fine Portland 
Cutters, Two-Seated Russian Sleighs, 
At very low prices. Write for catalogue. 

, „ .. ~ r Waterloo Wagon Co. L't'd, 

Mention The Century. Waterloo, N. Y. 


Lists of first-class Daily and° 
Weekly Papers sent to any part 
°f the world. Estimates free. 
150 Nassau St., New York. 

RFQT Material, Make and Trimmings. Trade-mark, "KING 
DCO I PERFECT FITTING TROUSERS," on waist-band every 
pair. Price $5 to $10. If your clothier don't keep, write 

King & Webber, Makers, Syracuse, N. Y. 

The BEST on Wheels. "Handy " Wagons. 
Buggies, Surreys, Spindles. Buckboards, Con- 
cords, Phaetons, Cabriolets, Two Wheelers, Road 
(Jarts.etc. 52-page catalogue and circular," How 
to purchase direct from the manufacturers," FREE. 

Dn AU L t Y Nm fi (1 14 Warren St., f5ew* York. 
UllflUkLI Ul UUl 96*08 8»dburj St. Boston. 

The only concern in the world making and dealing in nothing but 


Makers of the 

Celebrated Whitman Saddles, 


Park, Hunting, Exercising and Racing Saddles, 

Bridles; Bits, Leggings, Spurs, Stirrups, Saddle Cloths, etc. 

Over 250 styles constantly on hand. Illustrated catalogues free. 


IV©. 118 Chambers Street, New York City, V. S. A. 

Holstein-Friesian Cattle. 


Then send for a catalogue of the only- 
herd in which IOO Cows have aver- 
aged 19 lbs. and 18 have averaged 24 
lbs. of butter per week. In which 96 
Cows have averaged 16,019 lbs. of 
milk per year. 


Clydesdale, Percheron, French Coach, 
American-bred Coach, Standard-bred 
Trotters of the best and most Popular 
Also Berkshire and Cheshire Swine. 

Separate Catalogues of Horses and Cattle. Prices 
low for high quality of stock. (In writing mention 
The Century.) 


Syracuse, N. Y. 

STILL," send for our printed mat- 
ter showing every conceivable 
phase of wind-mill work. Our 

Everlasting Steel Wheel 

(work considered) costs only one* 

half what a wooden one does, while t 
the Tilting Tower is not expensive. 


110 and 112 S. Jefferson Street, 
Chicago, III.. U. S. A. 


AT by the "NEW METHOD," 

N Chronic diseases of women or men cured 

Al without drugs. Home treatment. Not a 
# " mind cure " but a scientific system. Better 
and cheaper than the "Hall System." You must investi- 
gate this. Send stamp for health pamphlet. 

HEALTH SUPPLIES CO., 7 1 Broadway, N.Y, 

SUrtDnrUAIJn Thoroughly Taught 
fll/ll I n#%MI^ BY MAIL, or personally. 
ITUATIONS PEOOURED all pupils when competent. 
TENOGRAPHERS furnished business men without 
charge for my services. Correspondence solicited. 
Send for circ's to W. G. CHAFFEE, Oswego, N. Y. 

Barnes' Foot-Power Machinery. 

Workers of Wood or Metal, 

Withoutsteam power, using outfits of these Machines, 
can bid lower, and save more money from their jobs, 1 
than by any other means fordoing their work. Also for 

Industrial Schools or Home Training. 

With them boys can acquire journeymen's trades 
before they "go for themselves." Price-List Free. 


No. 596 Ruby Street, Rockford, 111. 


Pure Bred Live Stock 


the WORLD. 

French. Coachers, 
Cleveland. Bays, 
French Drafts, 
English Shires, 
Belgian. Drafts, 
Snftbllr Horses, 



arriving from time to time. Rare 
individual excellence and 
% choicest breeding. 

Breeders and Importers of 

Standard Bred Trotters, 
Carriage Horses, 
Saddle Horses, 
"Welsh. Ponies, 
Iceland Ponies, 
Shetland Ponies, 
Devon. Cattle, 

Also, Dealers in Peal Estate. 

Our customers have the advantage of our many years' ex- 
perience in breeding and importing; superior quality; 
large variety and immense collections ; opportunity 
of comparing different breeds ; and low prices, because 
of our unequaled facilities, extent of business and low 
rates of transportation. 

No other ESTABLISHMENT in the WORLD offers 
such advantages to the PURCHASER. 

PRICES LOW ! TEEMS EASY ! Visitors welcome. 
Correspondence solicited. Circulars free. 

Sliadeland, Crawford Co. Pa. 

When you write, mention The Century. 










Maquoketa, Iowa, 


The Largest and Finest Herd of Registered Sliet- 
lands in America. 

Write for what you want, inclosing stamp for Price-List. 

What is 

Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitcher's prescription for Infants 
and Children. It contains neither Opium, Morphine, nor 
other Narcotic substance. It is a harmless substitute for 
Paregoric, Drops, Infant Syrups, and Castor Oil. It is 
Pleasant. Its guarantee is thirty years' use by Millions 
of Mothers. Castoria kills Worms. Castoria is the Chil- 
dren's Panacea — the Mother's Friend. 


Castoria cures Colic, Constipation, 
Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, Eructation, 
Gives healthy sleep and promotes di- 
Without injurious medication. 


" Castoria is so well adapted to 
children that I recommend it as su- 
perior to any prescription known to 
me." H. A. ARCHER, M. D., 

Ill So. Oxford Stij Brooklyn, N. Y. 

The Centaur Company, 77 Murray Street, N. Y. 



^ . », 

Senator James F. Pierce, of New- York, writes : 

For the past two years I have suffered very much from an aggravated form of nervous 
dyspepsia. I have resorted to various remedial agents, deriving but little benefit. A few- 
months since a friend of mine suggested the trial of AUcock?$ Porous JPlasters, Follow- 
ing the suggestion, I have been using the same with the happiest effects. To those similarly 
afflicted let me suggest the manner of their use. I place one over my stomach, one over the 
hepatic region and one on my back. The effect was excellent, and from the day I commenced 
their use I have been slowly but surely improving, and I am quite confident that by their 
continuance, with careful regimen, I shall again be restored to my accustomed health." 

Beware of imitations, and do not be deceived by misrepresentation. 
Ask for ALLCOCK'S, and let no solicitation or explanation induce you 
to accept a substitute. 

" We DO use it, and have used quantities of it in our 
family for the past io, 20, 30, 40, 50 years. We know 
there is nothing so good for its purpose." 

"But we wish you to use more of it, which we think you 
could do much to your added comfort and advantage, and 
somewhat to ours. Though not without a bottle of POND'S 
EXTRACT in the house since you can remember, have you ever read 
the book which surrounds each bottle, and the list of disorders on 
the wrapper, and noted how many ailments from which you may have 
suffered, or have attempted to cure with other remedies you might just as 
well have cured with your ever-handy bottle of POND'S EXTRACT? You 
use it for some purposes, your neighbor for others, and both are equally de- 
lighted with the results. Why not use it as much as you can?" 

" We have read that little yellow book a 
dozen times, and not only use POND'S EX- 
TRACT for everything you mention with 
which this family is ever afflicted, but have 
a dozen uses for it which you nowhere refer 
to, not to mention countless imagined ills of 
the children, when it is always called for. It 
is also frequently used on dolls with invari- 
able success, though you nowhere so recom- 
mend it." 


refuse substitutes' 
be sure that bottle 




Hear ! Hear ! 




Which are guaranteed to help a larger percentage of deafness than all similar 
CIAN WHO HAS EXAMINED THEM, and which has been recommended 
by the Standard Medical Journals throughout the civilized world. They are 
positively invisible while being worn, and may be worn months without removal. 
Sold only by H. A. WALES, Bridgeport, Conn. 



This is the most perfect, convenient, useful and effective little toilet article ever invented. It combines a Coinb-curler of 
superior finish with an improved Tong Crimper, and both parts being Electro-Magnetic it produces wonderfully pleasing 
and fashionable results. With its aid the hair cau be fixed in any desired style, and when so fixed with this little instru- 
ment it retains the effect much longer and is not even affected by damp air. Once tried always used. 

Price, 50C. guaranteed. ^^ OF ALL DEALERS. 

This cut is one-half size. 

It does not break off or ruin the hair like most Curlers and Crimpers, never fails in operation, and is guaranteed to give 

It is for sale by the leading drug, dry and faucy goods trade generally, but if not obtainable in your vicinity we will mail 
it to any address, post-paid, guaranteeing safe delivery, on receipt of 50c, or five for $2.00. Remit by draft, express or post- 
office money order, or currency in registered letter payable to THE A. BRIDGMAN CO., 373 Broadway, New-York. 
Mention The Century. Agents wanted for Dr. Bridgman's Corsets, Brushes, Belts and Specialties. 


American Razors for American People. ]j XV v^/Jl O 


The TORREY RAZORS are forged from the finest 

steel and each blade critically tested. 

The TORREY RAZOR will conquer the hardest beard 


Every Razor sold under a Guar- 
antee to Give Satisfaction. 






says : 

"There is a large demand for the finer 
grades of Razors for the American mar- 
has had the effect of Introducing, very 
largely, Razors manufactured by the 
of Worcester, Massachusetts, an Ameri- 
- can concern that Is finding much favor." 

We are the most extensive manufacturers of 

RAZOR STROPS rntheworM . 

And being Razor makers also, we know what is 
required to set a fine edge to a Razor. 

When a man once uses the TORREY 

STROP, he invariably recommends 

it to his friends. 


To set a finer edge to a dull Razor or Surgical 
Instrument than any other strop in the world. 

If not to be had of your dealer DON'T take anything 
else, but send for Catalogue A. Tells how to 
sharpen a Razor. 

J. R. Torrey Razor Co., 


You may make the best goods in the world, but if the style of 
your advertising is slovenly you will find it hard to make 
people believe it. 

There is nothing so rich and dignified as brass. Etched brass 
show-cards and signs are unique. Do not have to be cleaned. 
Are not fragile like glass, and are not so expensive as you might 
imagine. An elegant sample sent on receipt of one dollar. 
The Rutledge Etched Brass, 

F. B. Patterson, Selling Agent, 177 Broadway, New-York. 


the product of good common schools, excellent 
newspapers and intense ambition. 
His foreign brother is a machine, of little education, and snubbed by the educated classes as if he were a TV/TTTT TT* 
The free-trader says that the proper way to improve the American mechanic is to put him on the level of the ^^ XTX \J I.I Fl, 
foreign, and that the eleventh commandment is " buy cheap." Are you not tired of " cheap " stuff, whether in tariff talk or in trade ? Our 
ambition is to furnish you good goods at as low prices as they can be made and still be Good. We don't offer the dealer a big profit to sell 
you our goods; we come to you direct, and offer you goods at bottom factory prices. The MAHER & GKOSH cutlery is hand- 
forged, from razor-steel, every blade tested severely, and warranted. Look at 

Knife shown here; cut is exact size; price is 65c; 
blades equal any $2 razor. Our price for awhile 
is 48c. ; 5 for $2, post-paid. Lady's 2-blade pearl, 
35c. ; 7-inch Steel Shears, 60c. ; 
knife shown here and shears, $1, 
post-paid. Barber's hollow-ground 
razor, $1.25. Best strop ever made, 
50c. Send for free list. 


74 Summit St. Toledo, Ohio. 

n 1 1 D M C \A/ Dfin Y " Notes on the Cultivation of Dutch and Cape Bulbs, Tubers, Hoots, and Plants," 
U U n II L W DUU l\ i)y ant. ROOZEN & SON. A valuable work of 112 pages. Price 40 cents by mail. 


Hyacinths, Tulips, Crocuses, Lilies, Narcissus, Etc. 

We will deliver at Express offices in New- York City and Toronto the following selected bulbs for outdoor 
planting from the famous farms of Ant. Roozen & Son, Overveen (near Haarlem), Holland. 

18 Hyacinths, various colors mixed. 
25 Single Tulips, various colors mixed. 
24 Double Tulips, various colors mixed. 
18 Scarlet Due van Thol, dazzling scarlet. 
18 Polyanthus Narcissus, assorted colors. 
15 Double and Single Narcissus, assorted colors 
18 Pheasant's Eye Narcissus, fine bedder. 
75 Large Golden Yellow Crocus. 

50 Blue Crocus, of shades. 

50 White Crocus, of shades. 

50 Variegated Crocus, of shades. 

24 Snowdrops (Oalanthus nivalis). 

36 Spanish Iris, assorted colors. 

12 Scilla Siberica, rich blue. 

24 Grape Hyacinths, dark sky-blue. 

18 Triteleia Uniflora (Spring Star flower). 

Pamphlet on Cultivation free with each order. Address the Sole Agent for U. S. and Can., 

J. TER KUILE, 33 Broadway, New-York. 

&T All the Bulbs are of the largest size and will bloom next spring. Mention The Century. 

°5 A 
u. < 
O * 
o to 

=> a=i 


This is the Clasp, wherever found. 
That holds the Roll on which is wound 
The Braid that is known the world around. 

03 O 

aj O 

«=> «=J 


Lsadie^ Faoey V/or4^ 

of every description. It is the only illustrated practical 
paper published on Embroidery, Knitting, Crochet- 
ing, Paikting and Home Decoration. The notes and 
queries and correspondence departments are alone 
worth the subscription price. Perforated Patterns of 
designs published are furnished at mere cost ofproduction. 

4 Months^&IOc. 

Colored Studies of the designs for painting are 
offered at reduced prices. 

Dev/ eppijeilla gtampmf Oatfit 

Contains only useful and artistic new Patterns. 
The Illustrated Instruction Book gives treat- 
ment for each pattern. 
The Best Outfit ever offered. 

TERMS : Subscription price, 50c. per year. Two 
yearly Subscribers secure the outfit, or one name 
with 25c. ; 2 subscriptions and 2 outfits for $1.25. 
Sample copies with inducements to club raisers, free. 


Ltnn, Mass 


Standard and superior quality. Leading Nos. 048, 14, 130, 135, 239, 313, 333. All Stationers have them. 
THE ESTERBROOK STEEL PEN CO., 26 John Street, New York. 

The Best Dollar Monthly in the World, Stanley Wood, Editor, is 


Rocky Mountain Gems Given Free as a Premium to New Subscribers. 
Is a superbly illustrated monthly journal containing articles every month on Rocky Mountain scenery, illustrating and describing its 
canons, lakes, valleys, natural parks, mountain peaks, waterfalls, cascades, trails, minerals, mines, crystals, relics, cliff dwellings Indians 
and customs, sights above the clouds, summer and winter resorts, haunts of fish and game, natural wonders, caves, grotesque and marvel- 
ous works of nature, burning rock, mineral springs, climate, resources, birds and animals, wild flowers and hosts of other interesting 
things. Brimful of fresh, original and spicy reading every month. Different from any other publication in the world. Subscription only 
$1.00 per year, 3 months trial 35 cents. This journal recommends itself. Sen d for a sample copy, which is free, if you say where you 
saw this announcement. Address THE GREAT DIVIDE, Denver, Colorado. 

QUEEN'S Vest Pocket Opera and Fie/dG/aas 

Is the most powerful glass for its size ever made. Can be used to advantage for marine views, 
to make out game, in Cavalry service, and at the same time is a perfect little opera glass. Ad- 
justable for pupil width, and of absolutely the best optical and mechanical construction. Meas- 
ures in case 4 in. long by 2^ in. wide and 1 in. thick. Sent on receipt of $1 8.00 an( * return- 
able if not satisfactory. Catalogue of Opera, Field, Marine and Spy Glasses and Binocular 

Telescopes, FREE. QUEEN & CO., 924 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 

YES! OR NO. ! 

OES or does it not pay to advertise ? Yes, if well done in good 
papers. No, if not well done, and not inserted in good papers. 

The Boston Herald publishes more columns of advertise- 
ments than any other New England paper, and pays the 
advertiser well. 


Miss Alice Cary, Moorhead, Minn., writes: "I was a 
stammerer thirty years, but now speak with ease and 
fluency." Send for 54-page pamphlet to 


N. E. Corner nth and Spring Garden Streets, 
Philadelphia, Pa. 






C. Hennecke Co., 

Classical and Modern 

2,000 Designs, rnrr 
Pamphlet, rHtt 

Milwaukee, Wis. 

and 207 Wabash Avenue. CHICAGO. 


Best ever Known. Wholesale and Retail. 

Agents Wanted Everywhere. 
Send for Circulars. 


Ann Arbor, Mich. 


I Send for Catalog 
m_. p" «o= * |S*| -n- uf Books and helps 
^P&LbP TAUGH B forself-instruction 


POULTRY FOR PROFIT. We will send FARM-POILTRY, the best poul- 
-*- try Magazine, six months for 25 cts. ; or for 15 cts. if you will 
mention The Century. 1. g. JOHNSON & CO. Box 2118, Boston, Mass. 

IfPETP RftmfQby WEST'S New Original 
■WKBJT OUy IV O Entry Ledger. A Ledfer in • 
place ot a full set of books. Convenient forms for all entries. Easily ap- 
plied, simple, saves time. West's Self-proving Balance locates every 
error. _ Send three two-cent stamps for illustrated 16-page pamphlet 



Best Remedy for Throat and Lungs. AGENTS 
Wanted. STONE MEDICINE CO. Ouincy, 111. 

Violin Outfits! 

sent to any part of the 
United States on 1 to 3 
jdays' trial before buy- 
ing. 5 CENTS brings 

lustrated lOO-pagre Catalogue of Musical instruments Mail 
Orders a specialty. C.W.STORY, 38 Central St. BoBton, Mass. 

1f\f% wu l bring you a packet of rare coins or obsolete stamps 
\^v« and mv 48 pp. catalogue of curios, etc. 

W. F. GREANY, 827 Brannan St. San Francisco, Cal. 

Nicholson s Patented Artificial Ear Drums help Deafness and 
Noises in the Head in all stages. 80-page Illustrated Book, with 
full description, free. Address J. H. Nichols®n, 177 Macdougall 
Street, New- York. 

*£slti ^BARKER B RAN D 




^J.W> 1 INOESTRUCTfiBtE. *%>^i£^ [""IVATIOI^ 

S T A M M E R I N G 

Cured. Wonderful success in every case, Send for cir- 
cular. PROF. GEO. S. MILLIARD, the well- 
known Instructor in Elocution, 235 W. 34th St. , New York. 



OVERCOME by Peck's Pat. INVIS- 
IBLE Tubular Ear Cushions in all cases where 
the auditory nerves are not paralyzed. Successful in many cases cro- 
nounced incurable. Comfortable, self-adjusting. Sold onlv by F. HISCOX 
853 Broadway, New-York. Call or write for book of proofs FREE 

S NORTH AftlR Celebrated Pernin System; no Shading; no 
BHB 8 ""™ IU> » Position. Trial Lesson and circulars free. 



INSTITUTE. Detroit. 

@EATTiP? e . Metropolis of WASHINGTON. 
A fcMI ■ t-t Send stamp for "Travels of Brother 

W Jonathan" to Eshelman, Llewellyn & Co., Seattle, Wash. 


prices. Write for list; may be worth hundreds of dollars to you- 
enclose stamp. W. E. SKINNER, P. 0. Box 3046, Boston, Mass'. 

all dates prior to 



(Swiss Music Box,) 

Plays 1000 Tunes. 

Ilkst. Price List FEEE. 


102 High St., Boston, Mass. 

Send for monthly price-list. 

E. T. Parker, Bethlehem, Pa. 


Do it yourself. Card press 
$3. Circular press ^.News- 
paper size $44. Everything 
easy, printed rules. Send 2 
_ stamps for List of presses, 
type, <tc, to factory. KELSEY & CO., Meriden, Conn. 


END for free Catalogue of Books of Amusements, Speak- 
ers, Dialogues, Gymnastics, Calisthenics, Fortune Tellers, 
Dream Books, Debates, Letter Writers, Etiquette, 
etc. Dick & Fitzgerald, 18 Ann Street, New-York. 


Learners' manual of complete instructions, with description of instru- 
ments. How ro put up Telegraph Lines, Electric Bells, Batteries, etc. By 
mail /ret. J. H. BUNNELL & CO., 76 Cortlandt St., New-York. 



WE HAVE been in the Fancy Work Business 
for years, and make it a point to keep up with the 
times! Send your full address and one 2-cent stamp for 

Ingalls' Illustrated Catalogue 

of Fancy Work Materials— Stamped Goods -Lid a 
Clakkson's Akt Books and Colored Studies — 
Fancy Work Books — Stamping Outfits, etc. 
Address J. F. IJVGAIiliS, Lynn, Mass. 

Dress Reform Garments, 



(Substitute for Corsets.) 

Jersey Knit Union Under- 

In silk, wool, merino and gauze. Per- 
fection of fit, finish and durability. 


47 Winter Street, Boston, 
67 W. 33d Street, New-York. 

Catalogue sent free. 


Shrubs. Roses, Bulbs, Hardy 

Plants. The Best for Fall 

Planting. List of Specialties and 

/ priced Catalogue on application. 

FRED. W. KELSEY, No. 145 Broadway, New -York. 


has been carefully selected by E. C. Stedman and 
E. M. Hutchinson from the 400,000 volumes copy- 
righted. Only $3.00 per month, less than one cent 
per volume per day. Send for sample portraits. 
C. L. WEBSTER & CO., 3 East Uth St.,N. Y. 


Standard in social and business life. New 

edition, 1890. For prices, ask any book 

agent, or write DANES & CO. 103 State St. Chicago. 

Wanted, lady and gentleman canvassers for Manual Parallel 



Just think 

of it, steel cooking utensils, each one 
stamped out of a solid piece of steel. 
You want them ? Of course you do, 
every housekeeper does. Ask for 
"NEVEfrBREAK" Will not absorb 
grease, will not crack, scale, or break. 
Always clean and new. Write for 
illustrated circular. 

Surveying i^ Engineering 


Transits, Levels, Compasses, Chains, 
Tapes, Drawing Instruments, Draw- 
ing Paper, Profile and Cross 
Section Paper Field Books, 
Squares, Triangles, Etc. 

V Catalogue sent on application. V 




1890 METEOR. 

Autumn Planting. 

For imperative reasons in favor of Autumn 
planting of Deciduous Trees and Shrubs and 
Rhododendrons and for Catalogues, apply to 







Synopsis for 
2 cent stamp. 

W. W. OSGOODBY, Publisher, Rochester, N. Y. 


Largest like establishment in the world. First-class Second-hand 
Instruments at half new prices. Unprejudiced advice given on all 
makes. Machines sold on monthly payments. Condition and title 
guaranteed. Any instrument manufactured shipped privilege to 
examine. EXCHANGING A SPECIALTY. Instruction book 
and packing box free. Wholesale prices to dealers. Two (20 pp. 
and 40 pp.) illustrated catalogues Free. 

TYPEWRITER ? 70 Broadway, New-York. 
HEADQUARTERS, 3 144 La Salle Street, Chicago. 




• No preparation and only a 
common pen needed. Estab- 
lished 50 Years. Supe- 



_j_ -_ , rior and popular for decorative work on "linen. Rec'd 
oho I. Centennial Medal &, Diploma. Sold everywhere. 


or 1890 contains a large 
perspective view of this 
house and 80 others. 
It shows details and 
floor plans, and 
gives our prices for 
complete working 
plans,detail draw- 
ings, and speci- 
fications. Price 
of Atlas, by mail, 
$2.00. Address 
National Architects' Union, 120 N. 7th St., Fhilad'a, Pa. 






E . A. ARMSTRONG , DciroitMteh 


ANY ONE can rush into print. 
To advertise is a pastime ; 
to make it pay, a study. 

But one in a thousand knows 
how. That one has n't the time to 
attend to it. 

We prepare advertisements with- 
out charge — that is, for our cus- 

Wanamaker, Rogers, Peet & Co. 
and others, pay out thousands of 
dollars every year. What for ? 
Why, for just what we offer to 
do free. 

Merchants do not understand 
the situation. It costs no more to 
employ us as experts, than to use 
that class of agents who act merely 
as messengers. 

Your business differs from your 
neighbor's ? True. Because we 
recognize this, we succeed. We 
have no hobbies — we make each 
case a study. We want only high- 
class business. Anything that lacks 
downright honesty has no attrac- 
tion for us. Tell the truth and it 
will stick. The plainer the story 
the greater the adhesion. 

It costs nothing to talk the 
matter over with us, and only two 
cents to write to us. Our adver- 
tising leaflets will be sent free to 
responsible advertisers. 

Perhaps you may be only curi- 
ous. Curiosity is not always a sin. 
It leads to knowledge. 

Herbert Booth King & Brother, 

Advertising Agents, 

202 Broadway, New-York. 

Send this (The Century) advertisement and $2.00 direct to the 
publisher (this is essential) by October 1, and you will receive 






MONTHS (June, '90, to Dec, '90), 
Water-Color and China Painting- (also 
yery Suitable for Framing). 

These consist of 17 color studies of Landscape, Flower, Figures, 
etc. Among them are: Roses (16x22); Climbing Kittens (31x9) 
panel; Seated Figure (16x22); Azaleas (14x11); 2 bird and flower 
panels (each 21x8); Marguerites (11x16); River Landscape 
(14x20); Pansies (11x16); Arum and Scarlet Lilies (19^x12^); 
Moonlight Marine; Return from Market — figure — (11x14); 
Convolvuli (10^x14) ; Marine Sunset; Daffodils in Basket (11x14); 
and extra: Bertha Maguire's exquisite study of Orchids, which 
won the gold medal of the Royal Botanical Society of London. 

To the 18 superb plates we add 3 of our own 
selection — Landscape, Flower or Figure, as may be 
preferred. You also get for your $3.00: 

White for China Painting, Oil, Water-Color and Tapestry Painting, 
Wood-Carving, Brass Hammering and Needlework, and over 

150 PAGES (16x11) OF TEXT full of direction, suggestion 
and description, relating to Flower Painting, Marine Painting, 
Portrait Painting, Still-Life Painting, Sketching from Nature, Pen 
Drawing for Book and Magazine Illustrating, Etching, 


For $4 you get 12 months' subscription; with 32 color studies; 
and the sumptuous Orchid study free. 

For S3 you get all named in above "special offer"; or, if you 
prefer, 6 months' continued subscription, beginning any month. 

For 25c. you get a specimen copy of The Art Amateur, 

with 2 color studies, and 8 pages supplementary working designs, 

or China Painting, Carving, Needlework, etc., etc.; and, free, a 

beautifully illustrated Catalogue of 70 Color Studies. 



Patent Foot-Power Machinery 


Wood or metal workers without steam power 
can successfully compete with the large shops, 
by using our New LABOR-SAVING 

Machinery, latest and most improved for prac- 
tical shop use; also for Industrial Schools, Home 
Training, etc. Catalogue Free. 

Seneca Falls Mfg. Co. 

674 Water St. Seneca Falls, N. Y. 


Dialogues, Tableaux, Speakers, for 
School.Club & Parlor. Best out. Cata- 
logue free. T. S. DBNisoN.Chicago.IH. 

Applies liquid color by a jet of air. 
Gold, silver and special medals of Frank- 
lin and American Institutes. Saves 75 
per cent, of time in shading technical 

The crayon, ink or water-color portrait 

artist finds his labor lessened, his pictures improved and his profits 

increased by using the Air Brush. Write for illustrated pamphlet. 

It tells how to earn a living. 


Ask for The VICTOR Coal Hod. 

The Best in the World. No more dirty 
carpets from coal dust and water, as these 
are made of the Jinest quality Steel, per- 
fectly ivater tight. Made -without rivets. 
Name stamped on bottom of each. Take no 
other; a trial will convince you they are the 
best made. Sold by all leading dealers ; or 
write us for the name of dealer where you 
can get them. 

VICTOR KNECHT, Manufacturer, 

Cincinnati, O. 



This apparatus consists of an iron vessel 
with a tightly fitting lid, held down with a 
screw, and inclosing a porous cup, which is 
saturated with a volatile disinfecting fluid. A 
small screw-valve is arranged on the side of 
the case. Opening both lid and valve, a 
current of antiseptic vapor issues, carrying 
with it the volatile disinfectants. 

SELF-ACTING. Each Vaporizer sold charged for use. 
No care except to replenish once in two months at ex- 
pense of 4 to 8 cents, according to size. Three sizes, 
$3.50, $5.00, $8.00. 

Illustrated Pamphlet free to all. Address 


Chicopee Falls, Mass. ; Boston, New- York, 
Philadelphia, or Chicago. 



TLAS STANDS. 39 E. 19th St., H. Y. ' & 


ROUNDED RIB around the part which holds 
the stocking, and WILL NOT TEAR the finest 

HV: ;:::M:ADE):rFROM;::::;; 
1:TH E • BEST: OF; iWE B S 
i- M ETA L:T R I M M lilM G S 

SALE EVER YWHERE. Ask for them at the 
stores and BE SURE YOU GET THE WAR- 
REN, which may be identified by the FAST- 
ENER which has a ROUNDED RIB on the 
holding edges, and is stamped with the word 
Fasteners which appear to have rounded hold- 
ing edges, as the process by which they are 
made leaves almost a knife edge on the inner 
or holding surface, and they will cut the 

The Warren is made in a great variety of 
styles for Ladies, M isses and Children, in SILK 

Illustrated Catalogue of HOSE SUPPORT- 
to any address by the manufacturers, 

GEO. FE0ST & CO., 31 Bedford St.,Boston, Mass. 

London Challenger. 

Several styles of this famous English Coach. 

Sedan Brougham. 

Eleven varieties of Broughams for 1890. 

Ostend Mail Phaeton. 

Nine styles ; all of the present year. 

London Rake. 

Eleven varieties of Rakes and Dog-carts. 

Send for latest catalogue, just issued. 

FEED. F. FRENCH & CO. Boston, Mass. 

American Agents of Million, Guiet et Cie. of Paris. 






■ OFfJeE-6BAteLAySI w-.Y-- 






To any one, old or 
young, sending us the 
name of this Prksident, 
and enclosing a 2-cent 
stamp to pay postage, 
we will send a sample 
cake of WILLIAMS' 
SOAP for Toilet Use, 
and a little Primer re- 
garding its various uses. 

Enclose stamp, and 
The J. B. Williams Co., 

Glastonbury, Conn. 

Twenty-Two of 
the Presidents of 
the United States 
have used WILL- 
IAMS' famous 
Shaving Soap, not 
only for shaving, but for the bath and general Toilet Use. 

For Toilet Use WILLIAMS' famous BARBERS' 
SOAP is admirably adapted, and is now used by thousands and 
thousands of families, at home and abroad. No " head of a 
family " need hesitate to follow the example set by so many il- 
lustrious "heads of the Nation." 

WILLIAMS' BARBERS' SOAP is delicate as 
cream, and creates a most delicious, soothing lather. 

It leaves the skin with that soft and cleanly feeling 
that is so refreshing. It is not expensive, and recommends it- 
self to every one who tries it. We want you to try it. 

Don't think that because Williams' Soap was origi- 
nally intended for Shaving it can't be good for the toilet. 

That's just the point. Since Shaving is naturally an 
irritating process, it requires a soap soothing, delicate, and healing, 
to counteract this irritation. 

This Williams' Soap has done in millions and millions 

and millions of cases, is still doing, will do in many millions more. 

As a Toilet adjunct, it acts in precisely the same 

manner — softening, soothing, healing, and preserving the skin in 

the most perfect condition. 

For free sample or pound package, address 

THE J. B. WILLIAMS CO., Glastonbury, Conn., U. S. A., 

Proprietors of the famous " Genuine Yankee Shaving Soap" and 
Williams' Shaving Stick. 

This cut represents a Pound package of WILL- 
IAMS' BARBERS' BAR SOAP, as you will find 
it at your druggist's. 

It contains 6 round cakes. 

A pound package would last you (one person) a 
year or more. We mail one of these pound pack- 
ages to any address for 40 cents in stamps, postpaid. 

THE J. B. WILLIAMS CO., Glastonbury, Ct. 

The secret of many a girl's beauty is 

Yet this is a secret no longer when 
she utters the word " Prophylactic." 

For natural teeth — children and adults — the 


Made in 5 grades of bristles. 
For artificial teeth the 


is a necessity. 

Either Brush sent by mail for 35 cents. 

From copyright photo, by Fallc. 


Florence, Mass. 


Gives Pearly White Teeth, Ruby Gums, Pure 
Breath, Cooling and Refreshing. 25c. Send for 
book, "Care of Teeth," free. Wright &Co., Chemists, 
Detroit, Mich. Also in liquid or powder form. 

Before deciding where to spend the winter, write to E. S. 
Babcock, Jr., Manager the Hotel Del Coronado, CORONADO 
BEACH, San Diego County, California, for a pamphlet descriptive 
of Coronado Beach. Agassiz said of Coronado's Climate . 

"A climate that has ?w equal." 


The most delightful, refreshing, agreeable, and beneficial 

dentifrice ever placed before the public. 

Absolutely Free from All Injurious Substances. 


PREPAREDandGUARANTEEDby E. W. HovT& Co., Lowell, Mass. 




WOULD you fully satisfy the requirements of a refined taste for exquisite 
perfumes, use Seely's Orchid Flower ; they are delightful reproductions of 
the odors of these aristocratic flowers. 

Stanhopea, Galeandra, Vanda, 
Miltonia, Anguloa, Calanthe. 

1 -ounce Bottles, 

$2' VL I See Cut. 

10. 75 I 
1.50 5 

If not to be obtained of your druggist, we will send by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price. 
Sold also by the pound to the drug trade. 

SEELY MANUFG. CO. KBMS&? Detroit, Mich. 

Bad Complexions 

with Pimples 


Blackheads, red, rough and oily skin and hands are prevented and cured by that greatest 
of Skin Purifiers and Beautifiers, the celebrated Cuticura Soap, when all other so-called 
skin and complexion soaps and remedies fail. Why ? Because it prevents clogging of the 
sebaceous glands with sebum, the cause of pimples, blackheads and most complexional disfigurations. 

derives its remarkable medicinal properties from Cuticura, 
the great Skin Cure, but so delicately are they blended with 
the purest of toilet and nursery soap stocks that the result is 
a medicated toilet soap incomparably superior to all other 
C^\ skin and complexion soaps, while rivaling in delicacy and 

^^^\ f\ || surpassing in purity the most expensive of toilet and nursery 

*<~J \*J %*\> Y^ soaps. Sale greater than the combined sale of all other skin 

soaps. Sold throughout the civilized world. Price, 25 cents. 

"All about the Skin," 64 pages, 300 Diseases, 50 Illustrations and 100 Testimonials, mailed to any address. A book of priceless 
value, affording information not obtainable elsewhere. Address Potter Drug and Chemical Corporation, Proprietors, Boston, U. S. A. 

CLj „ T^irP w ' t " 1 I tc ^ n S a °d Burning Eczemas, and other itching, scaly and blotchy skin and scalp diseases, are relieved by a 

single application, and speedily, permanently and economically cured by GutlCUra. Remedies, tne 
greatest Skin Cures, Blood Purifiers and Humor Remedies of modern tim;s. This is strong language, but true, as proven by hundreds of 
grateful testimonials. Use them now. They cure when physicians, hospitals and all other remedies fail. 

The Finest Perfumes 
and Toilet Soaps 

Are Manufactured by 




19 Rue du Faubourg St. Honore, 


For chapped 
hands and face. 

Tones, Smooths, Softens, Whitens and Strengthens the Skin 
after shaving. WELL. ! ! ! try it. Price, 35c. All Druggists, 





M Tricopherous 

Wj!!kkK FOR THE 

An elegant dressing exqui- 
sitely perfumed, removes all 
impurities from the scalp, pre- 
vents baldness and gray hair, 
and causes the hair to grow 
Thick, Soft and Beautiful. 
Infallible for curing eruptions, 
diseases of the skin, glands and muscles, and quickly healing 
cuts, burns, bruises, sprains, &c. All Druggists or by Mall, 
60 Cents. BARCLAY & CO., 44 Stone St.. New York. 

Have you used 

Packer's Tar Soap 

for Shampooing ? 

Prof. I>. G-. Brinton, HE* !>., the distinguished 
scientist, says: " Packer's Tar Soap is remarkably pure, 
cleansing and healing ; excellent in Seborrhoea of the 
Scalp, Dandruff, Chafing and Itching." 

Baby's Bath? 

Christine Terliune Her rick (Cradle and 
Nursery, p. 43), says: " For baby's bath Packer's Tar 
Soap is preferable to all others. In removing scurf or 
dandruff from the baby's head, in relieving the itching and 
irritation caused by chafing, it is beyond compare." 

Complexion ? 

Dr. l<eo (Preservation of Beauty), says: " Packer's 
Tar Soap removes blotches, ' blackheads,' and the shiny, 
oily appearance which is so objectionable, and establishes 
that healthful, brilliant, natural cuticle which must be the 
ba*5is of all beautiful complexions." 

25 Cents. 

All Druggists. Sample, 10 cents in stamps. 
Mention The Century. 

THE PACKER MFG. CO. 100 Fulton St. N. Y. 

-« PERFUMES <&~ 

Made from flowers 

Sweet South. 
Roussel Rose. 
Eden Bouquet 


Doussan Violet. 
Lys des Incas. 
Imperial Pink. 
Persian Heliotrope. 
Mandarin Orange Bloom. 
Japan Hyacinth. 

Demand them of your druggist, or, if he can't supply 
you, send us 20 cents in stamps and your address, and 
we will mail you samples of all above with instructions 
" How to test." We will convince you that they are the 
most delicate and most lasting perfumes made. 


46 Chartres St. New Orleans, La. 



Its fragrance is that of tha opening buds of Spring. Once used 

you will have no other. 

Sold Everywhere. Try Xt. 

JAS. S. KIRK & CO., Chicago. 














It takes two to make a bargain. 


It formerly took the same number to 
make a dress; but now with HALL'S 
BAZAR FORM dressmaking is accom- 
plished by one person with comparative 
the FORM will arrive in due season 
to prove this assertion. We may be 
strangers to you, but our friends run high 
into the thousands, and we expect to count 
you with them. When you have used the FORM once you 
will be loud in its praise. It can be adjusted to fit any of the lady 
members of your family, and when not in use can be folded 
into small space like an umbrella, and stowed away 
in your bureau drawer or closet. Many ladies 
carry the skirt form in a trunk when travel- 
ing. It 's splendid for rearranging drapery. 

COMPLETE FORM, $6.50; SKIRT FORM (to which 
bust can be added), $3.50; SKIRT FORM ONLY (in case), % ..^ 
$3.00. Forwarded to any address on receipt of price. If you 
are not satisfied after reading this that you need a FORM 
an illustrated circular — mailed free if you mention October"*^ 
Century — will certainly convince you. 

HALL'S BAZAR FORM CO. 833 Broadway, New -York. 


" The best ever invented." — The Butterick Publishing Company. " Suits our system to perfec- 
tion." — Annie Jenness-Miller. " The only practical folding form." — James McCall 6° Co. Bazar 
Patterns. " Indispensable for home dressmaking. " — Madame Demorest Fashion Co. "There is 
nothing made that can equal it." — .9. T. Taylor French System of Cutting and Fitting. " A long- 
closed. opened, felt want admirably supplied." — Publisher Harper Bazar Patterns. 
Oct. '90. 

Would You Like to Dress Stylishly? 

If so, we can aid you, and, what is of equal importance, can show you how to do it at small cost. 
You will probably need a new Cloak or Wrap this season and desire something pretty, stylish and well 
made. If you buy it at a store you will have difficulty in getting a perfect fit, and besides the stores 
charge such high prices. 

We are manufacturers of Ladies', Misses' and Children's Cloaks and Wraps of all kinds, and, by 
selling direct to you, we save you the jobber's and retailer's profits, amounting to about one-third the cost 
of a garment. 

We cut and make every cloak to order, thus insuring a perfect fitting and beautifully finished gar- 
ment. We pay all express charges at our own expense. 

We sell Stylish Jackets, 8*3. 50; those new three-quarter Jackets, $4.50 ; elegant 
Ulsters or Newmarkets, !$>6.25 ; Plush Capes, 8>6.25 ; Astrachan Cloth Capes, 
$3.65; Plush Jackets, S13.95; Plush Sacques, $16.50; 
Misses' Newmarkets, $4.75; Children's Cloaks, $3.95; Fur 
Capes, $4.75. Also many other styles and higher qualities up to the 
finest and most expensive goods. 

Our new Fall and Winter Catalogue should be in the hands of every lady 
who admires beautiful and stylish garments. It contains illustrations, de- 
scriptions and prices of more than one hundred styles of Ladies', Misses' and 
Children's Cloaks, Wraps and Furs of all kinds. We will mail it to you, 
together with a 48-inch linen tape measure, new measurement diagram 
(which insures perfect fitting garments) and more than 


of the cloths and plushes from which we make the garments to select from, 
on receipt of four cents in stamps to prepay postage. 

Our samples include a splendid line of new Beavers, Kerseys, Chevrons, 
Jersey Cloths, Diagonals, Wide Wales, Rough and Smooth Surface Cloak- 
ings, etc., in Solid Colors, Stripes and new Scotch Plaids ; also English Seal 
Plushes in four qualities and all the most desirable Imported and Domestic 
materials. We also have a special line of Black Goods, a line of Light Weight 
and Medium Weight Goods or a line of very fine Cloths for those who par- 
ticularly wish them. You may select any style you desire from our Catalogue, and we will make it to 
order for you from any of our cloths or plushes. 

We also sell cloth and plush by the yard to ladies who desire to make their own garments. 

(fl^p^As to our responsibility we refer to The Mechanics and Traders Bank, New-York. 
Please mention The Century. 

THE NATIONAL CLOAK CO.. 21 Wooster Street, New-York. 


import, make and sell 


unexcelled for style, quality and moderate cost. 

Illustrated catalogue sent free to any address. 


Ladies' Silk 




The most beauti- 
ful ever shown in 
this or any other 
market, "weighing 
only from 10 to 12 
oz. each. 

Send for samples and m 
directions for 


27 Maiden Lane, cor. Nassau Street, 






Cluet.t, : Coon& Co. 


T O R E D A 



2 IN 






Flynt Waist, or True Corset 

No. 1 represents a high-necked garment. 
No. 2 a low-necked one, which admits of be- 
ing high in the back and low front. No. 3 is 
to illustrate our mode of adjusting the "Flynt 
Hose Support" each side of the hip; also, 
the most correct way to apply the waistbands 
for the drawers, under and outside petticoats 
and dress skirts. No. 4 shows the Flynt 
Extension and Nursing Waist, appreciated by 
mothers. No. 5, the Misses' Waist, with 
Hose Supports attached. No. 6, how we 
dress very little people. No. 7 illustrates how 
Pat Jan 6 1874 the warp threads of the fabrics cross at right 
Pat Feb is' 1876 an £~/ es zn the back, thereby insuring in every 
' 5 ' ' waist the most successful Shoulder 
Brace ever constructed. 

It is universally indorsed by eminent physicians as the most 
Scientific Waist or Corset known. 


is the only garment manufactured where the material of which it is 
made is shrunk before cut, the only one which in its natural con- 
struction contains a 


which supports the bust from the shoulders, and (so essential to large 
girls or women) thereby overcomes the objectionable abdominal de- 
velopment. The Flynt Waist, fitting superbly, permits that most 
desirable grace of motion possible only with perfect respiration 
gained by freedom from compression. 

For singers, actresses, teachers, or pupils of elocution or physical 
exercise, for equestrians or invalids, for every girl or woman, the 
Flynt Waist is unequaled. 

Thousands of ladies, whom we have fitted by mail satisfactorily, 
are constantly blessing its inventor. 

JT-^ 3 Our " Manual," containing 48 pages of reading-matter re- 
lating to the subject of Hygienic Modes of Under-dressing, Sent 
Free to any physician or lady, on application to 

Mrs. 0. P. FLYNT, 319 Columbus Ave. Boston, Mass. 

Columbus Avenue cars pass the house from all depots. 


Manufacturers and Exporters of 

Fine Boots, Shoes, and Slippers 



Opera Toe, French Heel. 
^VilMCflfrjX gee tha( . eyery pa j r is stampe( j 


Sole Stamp. on Linillg . and Sole of each 

shoe as shown in tracle-marks. Un i ng Stamp. 

Our goods are made in all widths 01 .Lasts, 

every style of shoe, sole, toe or heel required. 

Ash Your Dealers for Them. 

If they will not furnish you, write to us for information where 
they can be had. 

EDWIN C. BURT & CO. New-York, U. S. A. 

Agencies at which the Equipoise Waist may be found at Retail 

The Agents named in the following list are supposed to carry a stock of the different 
styles and sizes, and purchasers who patronize them will be as well served as if they ordered 
direct from the factory. Should they not have what you want insist upon their send- 
ing for it. _*_^_ 

I Boston 


Fall River 






Lynn . 

Lowell . 


New Bedford 


. C. F. Hovey & Co. 

. R. H. Stearns & Co. 

Jordan, Marsh & Co. 

. John G. Ford. 

Isaac D. Allen & Co. 

Houghton & Dutton. 

W. P. Bigelow & Co. 

. Edgar & Reynolds. 

R. A. Mc Whirr & Co. 

Nichols & Frost. 

. Fred Allen. 

C.N. Rhodes. 

Ferguson & Logan. 

Dora F. Hall. 

Mrs. M. C. Gould. 

Mrs. N. L. Wheeler. 

Miss Belle Niles 

. Geo. W. Chace. 

Mrs. C. T. Johnson. 

Mrs. S. E. Todd. 

A. McCallum & Co. 

Mrs. L. T. Robinson . 

Smith & Murray. 

Mrs. L. J. Merritt. 

. Denham Bros. 

L. L. Pierce. 

f Middletown 
New Britain 
New Haven 
New London 
Stamford . 






Biddeford . 




J. H. Bunce. 
. D. Miller & Co. 
Howe & Stetson. 
S. A. Goldsmith. 
J. L. Ambler & Sons. 
F. E. Dowe. 
C. O. Miller. 
J. H. Short. 
S. T. Turner & Co. 
. H. E. Battey. 
Wm. Frank. 

C. A. Libby. 

. H. W. Durgin. 

J. R. Libby. 

. Mrs. J. T. Lemont. 

. Owen Moore & Co. 

. T. B. & J. A. Colby. 

Salem . 
Springfield . 
South Gardner 
Westboro . 
Worcester . 


Battle Creek . B. Salisbury & Co. 
Detroit Newcomb,Endicott & Co. 
Jackson . W. M. Bennett & Son. 

New Hampshire. 

Dover . 

Hazleton & Son. 

A. E. Parker 

F. H. Gerry. 

F. W. Fitts. 

Cusson <fc Co. 

Akron . 



Salem . 



Cedar Rapids 
Council Bluffs 
Davenport . 
Des Moines 
Sioux City . 



. John Wolf, 

. W. H. Quimby, 

Dunn, Taft & Co. 

Chas. C. Snyder. 

: Kugel Bros. 

G. M. McElvey & Co. 


. W. K. Taylor. 
E. J. Davis. 
. August Steffen. 
. Younker Bros. 
Frank A. Moore 


New York. 


Sisson Bros. & Weldon, 
Brooklyn Liebman Bros. & Owings. 
" Mrs. L. Higham, 

456 Fulton St, 
" . Frederick Loeser & Co, 

" . Wecbsler & Abraham. 

Buffalo . .J.N. Adam <fc Co. 
Elmira ... E. D. Drew. 
Hudson . . . E. F. Parmlee. 
Lockport . . Simon Bier & Son. 
N. Y. City E. J. Denning & Co., 

784 Broadway. 
" " B. Altman & Co., 

301 Sixth Ave, 
" " Lord & Taylor, 

901 Broadway. 
" " S. W. Richards, 

66 W. 23d St. 
** " Miss H. Freud, 

72 W. 23d St. 
" " W. I. Allen, 2 B, W. 14th St. 
" " Jenness Miller Pub. Co., 

363 Fifth Ave. 
" " E. J. Bedell, 12 W. 14th St. 
Rochester . . D. A. Wightman. 
Syracuse . . . Mrs. L. Lacy, 
Troy . . . • W. H. Frear. 
TJtica . . . . J. H. Cutter, 

Ansonia . . . W. H. Plumb. 
Bridgeport . D. M. Read & Co. 
Hartford . . Geo. O. Sawyer. 
" Brown, Thomson & Co. 

Meriden . Ives, Upham & Rand. 

Boned with Genuine Whale 
bone. For Ladies, Misses and 
Children. A Corset, a "Waist 
and a Corset Cover Combined. 
The Best Corset Substitute in 
the world. High Neck and Low 
Neck; L,ongf Waist and Medium 
Waist; with Bones and with- 
out Bones; White, Tan and 

Prices 60c, 75c, $1.75, $2.00, 
$2.25, $2.50 and $3.00. 

Bones removable without 

Illustrated Catalogue mailed 
free to any address by the 


31 Bedford St. - - Boston, Mass. 

Bradford . 
Butler . 
Corry . 

Greenville . 
Harrisburg . 
Lock Haven 
Meadville . 




Titusville . 



Wilkes Barre 


Bloomington . . . Cole Bros. 
Cairo . . . . C. R. Stuart. 
Chicago . Marshall Field & Co. 
Mrs. S. W. Pike, 

75 Madison St. 
" National Dress Improvem't. 
Ass'n, 157 Wabash Ave. 
Decatur . . Linn & Scruggs. 
Jacksonville . Phelps <fe Osborne. 
Peoria .... Clarke & Co. 
Quincy . . Pollock & Murphy. 
Rockford . . . D. J. Stewart. 
Springfield R. F. Herndon & Co. 


Allegheny . . . Boggs & Buhl. 
Allentown . . H. W. Hunsicker. 
Altoona . Win. F. Gable & Co. 
Beaver Fails . . . John Paff. 
Braddock . . . J. H. McCune. 

Mrs. R. T. Hotcbkiss. 
. L. Stein & Son. 
E. Dunn. 
R. F. Livermore . 
I. A. Forman. 
. J. T. Campbell. 
. N. E. Tillotson. 
H. Cohen. 
Mrs. Jas. Quinn. 
. G. B. Perkins. 
. Knox C. Hill. 
. G. D. Trawin. 
Parkesburg Caroline E. Smith, M.D. 

Mrs. A. A. Smith, 1029 Walnut St. 

Jos. Home & Co. 

C. F. Walter & Co. 

Test & Co. 

Mrs. H. Newson. 

J. F. Kertcher & Co. 

Wm. Smith & Son. 

Jonas Long. 


Kansas City . G. Y. Smith & Co. 
" " Mra. J. D. Newby, 

1103 Main St. 
Sedalia . . Hve & Guenther. 
Springfield . Chas. H. Heer, D. G. Co. 
St. Joseph 

Townsend, Wyatt & Young. 
St. Louis . Wm. Barr, D. G. Co. 


Atchison . . . Donald Bros. 
Emporia . Strauss & Schlesinger. 
Leavenworth . . Bruns Bros. 
Topeka . Stevenson & Peckham. 
Wichita . Chapman & Walker. 


Atlanta,;Ga. Mrs. II. A. McLellan, 

10 W. Ellis St. 
Baltimore, Md. . . E. Pohl <fc Co. 
Black River Falls, Wis. 

Jones Lumber & Mercantile Co. 
Burlington, Vt. . Lyman & Allen. 
Chattanooga, Tenn. 

D. B. Loveman & Co. 
Colorado Springs, Col. 

Mrs. A. B. Bel ding. 
Denver, Col. Mrs. SV. Lazell, 

6i)7 16th St. 
Eau Claire, Wis. Theo. Hoffman. 
Helena, Mont. . . F. H. Fowles. 
Indianapolis, Ind. L. S. Ayres & Co. 
Jackson, Miss. 

Lusk, Buckley & Boyd. 
Lincoln, Neb. Ashby & Millspaugh. 
Los Angeles, Cal. . B. F. Coulter. 
Louisville, Ky. . . John C. Lewis. 
Madison, Wis. . . S. I. Ogilvie. 
Memphis, Tenn. . Bella Levy. 
Milwaukee, Wis. T A. Chapman & Co. 
Minneapolis, Minn. 

Minneapolis Dry Goods Co. 
Mont Clair, N. J. Mrs. A. Maynard. 
Montpelier, Vt. L. P. Gleason & Co. 
Nashville, Tenn. 

L. Rosenheim, Bro. & Co. 
Newark, N. J. . Heath <fc Drake. 
Oakland, Cal. Mrs. M. H. Ober & Co. 
Omaha, Neb. . S. P. Morse & Co. 
Pasadena, Cal. . Mrs. A. K. Knox. 
Passaic, N. J. . Wm. Abbott. 

Pawtucket, R. I. David Harley & Co. 
Portland, Oregon . P. E. Brigham. 
Providence, R. I. 

B. n. Gladding & Co. 

Rutland, Vt. . . C. E. Ross. 

San Francisco, Cal. Mrs. M. H. Ober. 

<*32 Sutter St. 

St. Johnsbury, Vt. 

Mrs. W. J. Sanborn. 
St. Paul, Minn. Field. Mahler & Co. 
Washington, D. C. 

Annie K. Humphrey, 10th St. 
Wheeling, W. Va. G. M. Snook & Co. 
Woonsocket, R. I. 

Vaslett & McCarthy. 
Yankton, S. D. . . Martha Cox. 

If your city or town is not represented in the above list get your dealer to send for a 
waist for you, which can be returned if not satisfactory . 



Ladies & Gentlemen 

Areunecju^lled-for softness 
of fabric & Wearing 

Being f&rSvpenor To any 
Simil&rjmported goods« 

prices o.nd Samples furnished 
r on ^pplicdfion to 


Bro&clw&y, cor.Gro.nd Sfreel\ NewYork 

21 West 23d Street, New-York, and 
32 School Street. Boston. 

Endorsed and commended by best known 
Physicians of the country. ' ' Two-fold through- 
out, thereby creating an inter-air space," 
which affords complete protection from 
draughts or sudden chills, warmer, softer, 
with no ii'ritation to the skin, more elastic, 
better fitting and with less weight than sin- 
gle fabric underwear. Manufactured from 
finest selected and hand-sorted Australian 
Lamb's Wool. Adapted for wear to Men, 
Ladies and Children, and surpassing in pro- 
tection to the person — comfort and pleasure 
to the wearer — any goods heretofore offered 
to the public. Sold by leading merchants in 
all principal cities. Illustrated catalogue 
mailed free on application to 





that ruin 

your health 

and comfort. 



Money returned 
if not satis- 

FERRIS' Patent 


Corset Waists 

[tins: Buckle at Hip for 

Hose Supporters. 
Tape-fastened Buttons— 

won't pull off. 

Cord-Edge Button 
Holes — won't wear out 




Infants to Adults. 














Mailed free 
on receipt 
of price, by 


341 Broadway, New York. 


Wholesale Western A cents. 


Wholesale Western Agents, 728 Market St., San Francisco, Cal> 


When buying gloves REMEMBER that 
there is such a thing as a price that is too 
cheap. It is better to pay a fair price and 
get good gloves like 


They are made from selected skins with 
care, and WARRANTED. If you want 
SERVICEABLE and good fitting gloves, 
ask your dealer for 'his make. If he does 
not have them, send stamp to the manufacturer for 
book "About Gloves." It will interest you. 
Established 1862. JOHN C. HUTCHINSON, Johnstown, N 

. Y. 

DILLOW SHAM HOLDER, nicely nickel plated 
r full set with screws complete to any address for 10 cents. 
Agents wanted. T. M . GANDY, Chester, Conn. 



Some corsets are never easy: there 
is always a stiffness about them, and 
the period of breaking them in has 
no end. What a relief it is then to 
know that there is at least one corset 
that is absolutely faultless — that fits 
like a Jersey — that needs only a trial 
to convince the most skeptical of its 
wonderful merit. Why not try it? 
It is surely worth while, for the 
money is returned if you are not 
satisfied; hence you run no risk. 
If your local merchant has n't got 
them yet, then order from us by mail direct, but make careful in- 
quiry first, as you save the postage. 

C^n^rial Ordinary shapes, $1.35, $1.65, $2.00. Nursing, 
OjJCClcLl. $ I . S o. Abdominal, $2.00. Postage prepaid. Send 
waist measure, and say if long or short waisted. 



In Woolen Stuffs Plaids are the most popular style Tor this 
season. Tartan and clan Scotch Plaids, large broken plaids in 
line materials of rough surface, colorings brilliant and color- 
ings subdued — an unusual variety in all the reliable grades. 

In writing for samples, state definitely as possible what is 
desired, and the samples will be promptly sent. We cannot 
send general lines. 

James McCreery & Co., Broadway & llth St., New York. 


Ordinary ones, made of 
Poor Frames and Poor Silk, 
last only a few months. 
They are poor and dear. 



Best Paragon Frames, 



Last 5 Years 

Cheapest, Best, 

Always Give Satisfaction. 




CORTICELLI Knitting and Crochet 
Silk. An established reputation of fifty 
years goes with this brand. When 
found on Knitting Silk it is a guarantee of 

great merit. The particular features are High 
Lustre and Washing Colors. Look for the 
words"CorticelIi— Fast Color" on one end of 
each spool. Florence Home Needlework for 
1890 teaches you how to make from this Silk 
those Washable Crocheted Four-in-Hand 
Scarfs— which are the new thing for gentle- 
men, and are also worn by ladies. This 
book will be mailed on receipt of six cents. 
NONOTUCK SILK CO., Florence. Mass. 



Unsurpassed wearing quality, with a finish like silk. None genuine 

without our Trade-Mark on each pair. Complete assortment 

for men, women and children. Darning Cotton 

of our dye. Send for price-list. 


927 Broadway and 2 West 14th Street, New- York. 
20 Temple Place, Boston. 107 State Street, Chicago. 

519 Olive Street, St. Louis. 57 Euclid Avenue, Cleveland. 


Should be perfectly 
quiet. No noisy, 
squeaky shoes. No 
loud thumping up 
the stairs. A nurse 
may become spirit - 
like in her move- 
ments. How ? By 
wearing the Alfred 
Dolge Felt Shoes or 
Slippers. They are 
exactly right for the 
sick room. Equally good for the 
servants, whose steps so often dis- 
tract. The mistress, also, finds them 
invaluable. Easy, comfortable, dur- 
able. Ask for them, and be sure 
you get the genuine Alfred Dolge. 
Illustrated circulars of the sole 

DANIEL GREEN & CO. 122 East 13th St. N. Y. 

PAIITIflN W. r*. Douglas Skoes are war. 
UHU I I UN ranted, and every pair has hla 
name and price stamped on bottom. 


lF Pr 



JgC.OO Genuine Hand-sewed, an elegant and styl- 

w ish dress Shoe which commends itself. 

5S/fl.OO Hand-sewed Welt. A fine calf Shoe un- 

*+ equalled for style and durability. 
SO.SO Goodyear Welt is the standard dress Shoe, 

v at a popular price. 
$0.50 Policeman's Shoe is especially adapted for 

w railroad men, farmers, etc. 

All made in Congress, Button and Lace, 

$3 & $2 SHOES ../fiBls, 

have been most favorably received since introduced. 

Ask your Dealer, and if he cannot supply you send di- 
rect to factory enclosing advertised price, or a postal for 
order blanks. W. 1«. Douglas, Brockton, Mass. 


spoil yo it r Feet with 



Don't permit any 
substitute for the 
"Korrect Shape," as 
we have arranged to 
supply any one in the 
United States who 
cannot get these goods 
of eur agents, and 
prepay all delivery 
charges, thus bringing 
them to your door 
without extra cost. 

****** If you want 
fit, with freedom 
from CORNS and 
you will never 
wear anything ex- 
cept THE BURT & 

Do you want a 


Absolutely Hand- 
If so, or if you 
want Fr en civ Calf, 
Patent Leather, 
Mexican Burro, 
Imported Russet 
Leather, or Cor- 
dovan, you can 
have it in the " Kor- 
rect Shape "(trade- 
mark) , which com- 
bines elegance and 
ease with the best 
•wearing qualities. 

uppers, and bottoms are all oak tanned. Any one not finding a full line with our trade- 
sole can be supplied, charges prepaid. Particulars free. 

The last models 
for the '• Korrect 
Shape " are made in 
our own factory, and 
are the results of years' 
experience in supply- 
ing the highest class 
of trade of the country. 
Only the be^t grades 
of leather are used for 
mark stamped on the 

The Burt & Packard "Korrect Shape" Shoes are made in four grades, viz. : Hand-made, Hand-welt, Burt-welt and Machine 
Sewed. The trade-mark above — showing the foot in a natural position within a shoe, and also the words " Korrect Shape" — is fully 
covered under the Patent laws, and we shall be glad of any information where dealers are making use of either of these designs in the 
hope of deceiving the public. 

Our agents should carry all styles in Congress, Button and Bat for Gents, Boys and Youths. 

All information concerning our different styles, kinds of stock, how to obtain these goods, etc., etc., forwarded by simply naming this 
publication, with your address in full. PACKARD & FIELD (Successors to Burt & Packard), Brockton, Mass. 

Every kind of footwear for 
men, ladies and children, in 
stock or made to order. 
Careful attention given 
measure work, a 
perfect fit being 
obtained by my 
system of meas- 
uring. Send2-ct 
stamp for illus- 
trated catalogue 
of shoes and rules 
for self-measure- 

This is my ENGLISH GRAIN CREEDMOOR,andashoeinwhich 

I take just pride. I have mailed thousands of pairs of these to every State and 
Territory in the Union, as well as to Mexico, Sandwich Islands, South 
America, Japan, Canada, and elsewhere, and have heard from them, as yet 
nothing but unqualified praise. I have sold quantities of them to civil engi- 
neers, sportsmen, miners, railroad and army men, who give the severest tests to 
foot-wear, and professional and business men in the cities and towns, with per- 
fect satisfaction. Readers ofTnK Century should not confound this -with 
the so-called Creedmoors advertised at cheap prices. I warrant them 
•waterproof and one of the easiest and most durable shoes made, a?id well 
worth the money charged. They are just the thing for Fall, Winter and 
Spring use, keeping the feet not only dry, but warm. 

Kept in all sizes and widths, and prices as follows : Heavy double sole 
and tap-sole, hand-nailed (the strongest fastening known), bellows tongue 
(snow excluder), $5.00, or Hand-Sewed, $7.00. Express or mail, delivered, 
50 cents extra. 

F. P. WEBSTER, 277 Washington Street, BOSTON, MASS. 



Send for 

Price List. 

143 West 33d Street, New York. 


S&/7T 1 

tlUirr fl 

1 nSuH&i 


i MarMenk 

: — TRADE MARK - . ,,' "' .' ,' 



We are the original inventors and manufacturers of JERSEY 
FITTING Union Undergarments, and hold Letters Patent 
for the same. Each garment is marked Pat. Feb. 7, '85, and all 
garments not thus marked are infringements, for which all manu- 
facturers and dealers will be held responsible. We make in High 
Grade, Silk, Silk and Wool, Silk and Jaeger, Silk and Merino, 
Natural Wool, Meriao, P>albriggan, Wool or Cotton fast black, 
Winter and Summer weight. These garments are Superior in fit, 
in workmanship Equal to any, and second to none. They have 
received the indorsement of the Leading Uress Reformers in the 
country, " who are devoted to the practical and beautiful in women's 
and children's clothing" ; and thousands of ladies have expressed 
their unasked-for satisfaction as to fit, quality and workmanship. 
We do a large business through the mail, and when our garments 
are not found with your best dealers, send stamp to us for circular, 
price-list, rules for self-measuring and "swatches," as we send them 
to all parts of the " United States " and warrant satisfaction. 

High Tailors' bills are neither a luxury nor a necessity. Order 


m ^ mmmmmm ^^^^^^^ m ^ mmmmmmmmmm ^ m ^^^^ mmm agree that there shall 
be a saving; and, moreover, it is easy, safe and satisfactory. 
Leaving money in your pocket is equivalent to putting it there. 
You will feel indebted for the suggestion. 

Our magnificent new line of Suitings, Overcoatings and Trouser- 
ings for Fall and Winter now ready — we have everything from 
good to the finest (nothing less). 

Write us for samples from our Merchant Tailoring "Department. 
State the kind of goods desired, and we will send all things 
necessary and without cost to you. 

We understand Clothes — we understand Tailoring — and we 
endorse and recommend this method. If you want samples of 


mention ages. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 

The Largest Clothing and Tailoring Hous9 in America. 

T ATW ACENTS-Senfl for terms. 

JLIjQ-X/ A VAN ORDEN CORSET CO., 22 Clinton Place, N.Y. 

IVX} * r0 RF 

ATED) v 


B .* MAIL. 


Send your Dame and ad- 
, dress, and mention this publi- 
P *P a^t^/*\ cation, and the return mail 
\s* _ / Her*/ \ w ill bring you a line of our 
samples showing all the new 
and desirable woolens for the 
present season, from which 
we make custom garments to 
your order, also linen tape 
measure, fashion report and 
I easily understood directions 
for self-measurement. We 
would have our tiade under- 
stand that we are strictly cus- 
tom tailors, and all garments 
are made exclusively to the 
measurements and directions 
supplied us, and videss they 
are completely satisfactory may be rtturned to vs, and 
either new garments will be made or money will be re- 
funded Our extended facilities enable us to complete 
any order within 48 hours, and our arrangements with. 
the different express companies permit us to deliver a 
pair of pants to any address atamaximumcost of 35c, 
a suit or overcoat at 75c. Our prices range from $4 up- 
wards on pants, $16 on suits and overcoat?, and are at 
all times the lowest possible for high grade tailoring. 
Remember that any failure on our part to completely 
satisfy our patrons is our sole loss. As to onr responsi- 
bility we refer by permission to the Capital National 
Bank of Indianapolis,or any express company. Address 

The KAHN TAILORING CO., Indianapolis, Ind. 

jg®-w"e want competent agents everywhere, to whom 
wo will allow liberal commissions. 


A Selection from 


Copyright, Willis Woodward & Co , 

M *t derntn 

By Edward J. Abraham. 


We wish to bring to your notice two 
very popular and choice pieces of music. 
One is a song entitled " More than 
Tongue Can Tell," (introducing the 
"Wedding Chimes), by Chas. Graham, author 
of "If the Waters could Speak as they 
flow," " Somebody's Ship will be Home 
By and Bye." The other is " The Rosa- 
bel Waltzes," by Edward J. Abraham' 
author of the celebrated "Mephisto Ga" 
votte," as played by all the orchestras. 
The regular price of these pieces is GO 
cents each, but to introduce them in 
every home, we will, on receipt of 40 
cents, send either of the above, and with 
each order send free ten complete 
pieces of our very latest vocal and 
instrumental music, full size (11 1-2 
x 13 in.), printed on elegant heavy 
music paper, and would cost $4.0O 
if bought at music-stores; or, if you 
will send 80 cents for both, we will 
send you twenty-five pieces free. A 
magnificent collection. 


Author of "The Song that Reached My Heart," "That 
Melody Divine." etc., handsomely bound in leatherette* 
a very pretty gift, postpaid, $1.00. 

A good salary paid to 
agents for " Woodward's Musical 
Monthly " (sample copy and terms, 
ten cents). „■ " 


842 & 844 BROADWAY, 




THE ART INTERCHANGE (Established 1878) is a practical guide to all the arts, and is valuable alike to the earnest student, the 
struggling and clever amateur and to all women interested in the beautifying and decoration of the home. No journal in the world ap- 
proaches it in the beauty of its exquisite colored supplements, of which one is given with each issue, in all, 26 a year ; in the practical artistic 

value of its full-size working-design supple- 
ments, or in the wealth of suggestions given in 
every one of its beautifully illustrated issues, 
towards the artistic furnishing and beautifying 
in every way of the home. 

It is alike the most thorough and cheapest of 
art periodicals. Where else can you procure 
in one year 36 colored plates, 36 deco- 
rative design supplements and 36 beau- 
tifully illustrated 30-page papers, full of in- 
teresting hints and instruction, for but $4.00 a 
year. Of this atrial will convince you, therefore 

makes the following trial offer, which will 
be sent at once, for only $1.35; ten 
lovely colored plates, as follows : 
Moonlight Marine. Narragansett. 

Sunny Day. Street Scene. 
Screen Panel. Cupids. 
Chrysanthemums. Yellow and white. 
First Snow. Birds in snow. 

A Clearing- in the Woods. 
Purple Iris. 

Water Color, Size, 20 x 14 inches. 

Also two colored designs for china 

painting, also 

Seven decorative design supple- 
ments, full working size, and the last seven 
illustrated copies of this unrivaled periodical. 

Except with this offer, these colored studies 
above sell for $3.00. 

Or, a sample copy with beautiful colored 
study of the Catskill Mountains, deco- 
rative design supplement and colored china 
painting supplement, will be sent for only 10 

Or, for 30 CEMTS, sample copy, colored 
china and decorative design supplements and 
colored supplements, A Brittany 
Peasant Woman, after Walter Satterlee, 
together with Catalogue containing 100 
illustrations of our colored works will be 
sent to any address. 

Catalogue sent free for postage, if 
Centurv^Magazine be mentioned. 


THE ART INTERCHANGE, 37 & 39 W. 22d Street, N. Y, 

Oct. '90. 

1 balance ofthis YearFREEl 



" Mrs. Parkins's Christmas Eve." fp 
Also, New Stories by 




To all who subscribe for next year (see Offer below) to 



^Sff Edited by EDWARD W. BOK. 

Some of the special features for these Autumn 
numbers are: 

Another New Story by 



"A Golden Gossip." 




With Illustrations by such Eminent Artists as |T 

W. L. Taylor, C. D. Weldon, Frank T. f/J 

Merrill, C. T. Hill, E. W. Kemble, E. H. \j£ 

Garrett, and others. \jT 


'Will Carleton, Margaret Deland, |/^ 

Rose Hartwick Thorpe, Laura E.Richards. [/ 

*^j rpHE special articles include, "How to Train the Voice," by the [^ 

Celebrated Operatic Tenor, Italo Campanini. "How I Have \fa 

n Old," by P.T.Barnum. "The Story of a Society Girl,"as \fo 

"Pfi told by a well-known New York fashionable belle. "Liberties of Our \T* 

-pj> Daughters, "by Mrs. Admiral Dahlgren." Why Flirting is Wrong," ^ 



'i by Felicia Holt. "How to Celebrate Wedding Anniversaries," by f^- 
j[{ Florence Howe Hall. "The Courtship of General Grant," as told ££ 
^j by Mrs. Grant. A Series of Humorous Sketches by Robert J. f^ 


Burdette. With regular departments, complete in every detail, and \J^ 

each under the charge of editors well known as high-salaried writers. K 

We will mail the Journal from now to January ist, 1892 — f/>* 

that is, the balance of this year, FREE, and a FULL YEAR fi£ 

from January ist, 1891, to January ist, i8g2, Also our handsome 40-page Prem- 6^* 

ium Catalogue, illustrating a thousand articles, and including "Art Needlework L>* 

Instructions," by Mrs. A. R. Ramsey ; also Kensington Art Designs, by Jane S. F/^ 

Clark, of London. iy- 

For $1.00 

N. B. — This offer must POSITIVELY be mentioned when sending your Subscription, 

or one year only will be given. 

CURTIS PUBLISHING CO., Philadelphia, Pa. k- 



Ladies and Families. 

The OCTOBER part of the Young Ladies' Journal is NOW READY. 
It contains the beginning of a new story, "A BREATH OF 
SLANDER"; the continuation of "A TROUBLE TO HER 
FAMILY " ; several complete stories ; Splendid Colored Parisian 
Fashion Plate of twenty-four illustrations of Autumn Toilets for 
Ladies and Children; A Beautiful Colored Design for Painting- 
or Embroidery ; The Gigantic Supplement with a great num- 
ber of Fashion Illustrations ; also, full-size Patterns ; Cookery 
recipes; Pastimes; Music; Poetry; Fancy Work of all sorts, etc., etc. 


Price, 30 cents a copy ; or, yearly, $4.00, including the extra Christmas 
number. For sale by all newsdealers. The Young Ladies' Journal is 
published monthly, on the ijth of the month previous to its date. Any 
Newsdealer will take your subscription for two or three months, or for any 
other period, beginning with any issue. 


One Door Bast of Broadway. 83 & 85 Duane St. New- York. 

Ol Is the title of a serial story by Mrs. Ame- 

1^3 X 1C ^ a E. Barr, one of the most brilliant and 

popular of living novelists, author of 
" Friend Olivia," now running in The 
Century. " She Loved a Sailor" will be 
published in The Christian Union, be- 
ginning early in October, and running 
through four months or more. It is a 
dramatic and fascinating novel, treating events in New -York 
City during the great bank struggle of Jackson's administration 
with powerful realism. The love story is wholesome and charm- 
ing. For one dollar The Christian Union will be sent to 
any new subscriber for five months, for introduction. Three con- 
secutive sample copies for 10 cents. 

Loved a 

The Christian Union is a Family Paper which aims to help, stimulate and 
entertain every member of every household by the broadest education through 
current history and direct and practical treatment of all timely topics. It is a con- 
tinuous history of the world in weekly chapters. Each issue is made up on the 
issues of the week. "Tho best and brightest of religious papers," says the 
Boston Advertiser. "Emphatically a paper by thinkers for thinkers," says the M^OOA^VtARy 
New- York Tribune. J— n _ / 

TQg Christian Union 

llsa : A : rAMliy : PAPCR : Sffl 














1 would sooner buy it for actual use than any other now in the market. 

JAMES P. BRYCE, Librarian Public Library, Springfield, 111. 
It is used continually in our school, where we have all other English Cyclopedias. 

Col. PARKER, Principal Cook County Normal School, 111. 
I have it. It is by far the best Cyclopedia for the money I have ever examined. 

Rev. D. A. LONG, D. D., President Antioch College, Ohio. 
It is full enough, and does not contain so much that it takes all night to find what you are looking for. 

JOHNS McCLEAVE, Attorney B. & O. R. R., Pittsburgh, Pa. 
It is to-day the one best suited to the most readers. 

Dr. BANCROFT, Principal Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass. 

Write for Descriptive Circulars if you are interested. 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, Subscription Department, 753 and 755 Broadway, N. Y. 


Art Galleries. 

Paintings and Water Colors 

by the most eminent modern masters. 

Finest Etchings and Engravings, 


Artists' Materials, 

Artistic Framing. 

204 Fifth Avenue ( Madison Square), 



An Illustrated Monthly Journal devoted to the benefits of the 
Amateur and Public. Post-paid one year, 50c. ; six months, 25c. 
Catalogue Free. BUBIER PUB. CO. Lynn, Mass. 

A Public Library is now purchasing large 

and small collections of books at liberal prices, paying cash. 
Executors and others having libraries to dispone of, address our 
Agent, F. P. Harper, 17 East 16th St., New-York. 

Babyhood. — Devoted to the Care of Infants. 
$1.50 a year. 5 Beekman St. New-York. 

"The Mosaic Account of Creation, The Mir- 
acle of To-day." 298 pages, $1.00 post-paid. 

" It permits Moses to tell his story in his own way." 
Hon. Wm. E. Gladstone: "I should have been sorry to omit 
any of the chapters." Dr. Howard Crosby : " A complete mouth- 
shutter to those that would pit Genesis against Science. One of the 
most valuable contributions to Biblical exegesis ever published." Dr. 
Taylor Lewis: " It is entitled to the highest attention." Address 
C. B. Warring, Ph. D., Military Institute, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. 


Familiar to our Forefathers 1500 years ago, 
known to one man in fifty thousand. 

but not now 

The Apocryphal Books, being the Gospels and the Epistles 
thrown out of the New Testament by the Council of Nice, A. D. 
325 • translated from the original tongues with copious notes, and 
illustrations from Ancient Missals and Miniatures. 

Of this work, Dr. Talmage has recently said : 

" Christ is the joyous boy of the fields. We are not permitted 
to think that the shadjws of Calvary darkened His pathway as 
a youth, and the Apocryphal Books of the New Testament 
show much of the early Life of Christ not to be foimd in the 
four Evangelists." 

Price, in large 8vo, cloth, $2.00. Sold only by subscription. 
Agents wanted in every county. Send for circulars. 

GEBBIE & CO., Publishers, Phila. 


Various sizes, mounted and unmounted. Works of the Old Mas- 
ters in the Galleries and Churches of Europe. Italian Views. 
Modern Paintings: from the originals by Alinari, Nay a, Brock- 
mann, Hollyer, Berlin Co., Hanfstaengl, Mansel, etc. Braun's 
Carbon Photographs. Imported direct by 

C. H. DUNTON & CO. 50 Boylston St. Boston. 

New l88q Catalogue of ioo pp. mailed for 10 cts. in stamps. 

Authors and Publishers should get the prices 
ofTheAldine Printing Works, Cincinnati, before 
closing contracts for Printing or Binding. This 
establishment is among the largest and best- 
equipped in the country, with every requisite nec- 
essary for the production of the smallest pamphlet 
or the largest book. Fire-proof vaults for the safe- 
keeping of plates. C. J. Krehbiel & Co. 

Mention The Century. 

A Chance to Make $50.00 


The above is a small and a very poor reproduction of a double-page cartoon, composed of advertisements cut. 
from magazines and fitted together, which appears in the October number of 


An Illustrated Monthly for Business Men. 

THE of $50.00 is offered for the most complete list of advertisements used in the above picture, but 
only subscribers are eligible — therefore subscribe. All the particulars are given in the October 
PRIZE number, now ready. 

Hp U£ is for all men interested in pushing their business and getting along, from the greatest merchant 
to the smallest store-keeper. Each number contains Designs for Advertising, Articles on 
PAPER Circularizing, Newspaper, Magazine and Catalogue Advertising, all fully illustrated. Enter- 
taining, helpful and suggestive. 

DON'T here, but tak_' your letter paper and envelope and send $1.00 for a year's subscription; it will 
take 250 such letters to pay for this advertisement, but it has paid before, thus demonstrating 
STOP that Art in Advertising is worth the money. 

Our special features, such as " Cost and Result" column, showing actual returns of an Advertise- 
ment in different mediums, are invaluable to Advertisers. 

The Men to See. Attracting Trade. Random Notes, etc., etc., 

Have added much to the paper's prestige. Address 

ART IN ADVERTISING CO. Publishers, 35 & 37 Frankfort Street, New-York. 


The Paul E. Wirt Fountain Pen, 

Bloomsburg, Pa. 

350,000 in use. 
Positively The Leading Pen, 

"An absolutely perfect reservoir pen, a pen compared with which all other pens are frank failures." 
Ask your dealer or send for catalogue. Mention The Century. Mark Twain. 

Fountain Ink Stands have Come to Stay. 




Eill it at the Top by Removing Pin. 

Easier to Fill. 
Easier to Clean. 
Easier to Operate. 
Easier on the Desk. 

Easier to Keep 
in Order. 

Easier to Sell. 

Ink will not spill 
if upset. 

Easier to Buy. 
$1.25 EACH. 

Save 75 per cent, in ink. Keep your ink fresh. 
Keep your fingers clean. Keep it free from dirt. 
Keep your desk clean. Keep your temper in trim. 
Instructions for using — Do?i , i need any. 



P. O. Box 111, 



Made of steel. Erasing 
\ surface is rounded off and 
dressed as files are, the cut 
being very sharp and 
uniform. Handy, dura- 
ble, does not dig into the paper ; makes 

a smooth, clean erasure. BEST ERASER in the market. Ask your 
stationer, or send 25 cts. C. W.JOHNSTON, 

735 W. Main St., Louisville, Ky. 

ffl <r%*f<r«^(®^oS3t<e>^s^^^S^ s <i m 


ESTA5L15MED 1852 

Of f [CES:C°R.'f ULTON & WILLI An-5H| 







TU5Le o L°RVWATEr\e o lPflS-CRAYbN5 



Correspondence invited -Catalogues cf our different 
departments To responsible J3iriTes. 









Are unequaled for smooth, tough leads. 

If your stationer does not keep them, mention THE CENTURY Magazine, 
and send 16 cents in stamps to the Joseph Dixon Crucible Co., of Jersey 
City, N. J., for samples worth double the money. It is worth your trouble. 

PAT N1AR I2V '89 

Patent Novelty Folding Coin Purse. 

More popular than ever. Prices reduced. Most roomy and least bulky- 
purse made. Cannot lose small change and has no frame or catch to break or wear 
the pocket. Ask your dealer for it, or I will mail you one post-paid, in black, red or 
brown morocco on receipt of 40 cents, or full calf, 70 cents, or of genuine seal, 85 cents. 

JAMES S. TOPHAM, Sole Manufacturer, 

1231 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D. C. 

Please mention Century. The trade supplied. Write for prices. 



Ask your Stationer for 





These papers have gained an unprecedented repu- 
tation among society people on account of their superior quality and reasonable price. They 
are to be had in almost every size and thickness, plain and ruled, antique or smooth finish. The 
Boston Bond — very peculiar in appearance — (that 's our secret) — pleases the most fastidious. 
The elegant Boston Linens are always satisfactory. The Bunker Hill Papers are honest goods, 
within the reach of everybody's purse. ♦ 


On Two Conditions. 

Samples of all the above and many others, representing 
in the various sizes, plain and ruled, more than 300 
Varieties, will be sent free to any address, provided: 
First. That the " October Century " is mentioned. 
Second. That there is no dealer in the town or city keeping 
these papers to whom we cafi refer you for them. 
Full information is sent with these samples as to sizes, envelopes to match, cost of stamping 
with monogram, crest, street die, etc., and a customer in any part of the world is thus enabled 
to order as intelligently as if in person at our store. 


1 6 cents per pound. 

The cost of sending by mail is only 16 cents per pound. 
Express is often cheaper. Freight, especially in large quan- 
tities, cheaper still. 

We make it for the interest of dealers everywhere to sell our goods. 

Correspondence solicited. 




49 and 51 Franklin Street, 




It will add two columns of figures at a time with absolute accuracy. 

It gives Instantaneous results, and makes no mistakes. 

Jt saves an imme?ise amount of time. 

Jt prevr7its brnin exhaustion. 

The following is one of ma7iy high indorsements: 

Is a most re- 
markable in- 

United States Signal Office, Washington. 
"Several 'Webb-Adders' have been in constant use in this office, and have 
recommended themselves by their accuracy and rapidity." 

Gen. A. W. Greely, Chief Signal Officer. 
A nynian or woman who has much to do with figures caimot afford to be without one. " The 
Adder" saves both time and 7>wney. 

Price, $7.00. Sent by mail (at customer's risk) on receipt of price and 15 cents postage; or by express (at customer's charge), 
bend tor a circular, with full-size cut, description and testimonials from users in all parts of the country. 

WEBB'S ADDER CO. 58 Cedar St. New-York, 



For Schools and Offices. 
Sharpens bot h Lead and Slate Pencils. 

GOULD & COOK, Manufacture, 
Leominster, Mass. 

Send, for* Circular. 


Unequaled for design, material, con- 
struction, finish. 


Union School Furniture Co. 


Mention The Century. 

Patented by THOS. A. EDISON. 

A simple, practical and economical manifolding device for every- 
day use. 

It makes 3000 copies of one original Writing, Drawing, Music, 
etc. 1£>00 copies of one original Typewriter Letter. Recommended 
by over 40,000 users. Send for circular and sample of work. 


152-154 Lake St., CHICAGO. 32 Liberty St., NEW-YOEK. 

OVER 3000 IN USE 0F 


Type-Writing Cabinet and 
Office Desk Combined. 

The advantages of our Desks are that they can be adjusted to every known type- 
writing machine. We supply them to fit the REMINGTON, C AL1GRAP H and 
HAMMOND. By patented mechanical construction they can 
be changed from Type-Writer Desk to Office Desk instantly. 
ARE ORNAMENTAL. Are dust-proof when closed. 
Are solid and substantial, and without exception the best 
type-writing desks made. Over 3000 now in use. Used 
in the offices of The Century, Harper & Brothers, Youth's 
Companion and other first-class offices. 6 styles of desks. 

Address for Catalogue 

THE NEEDHAM CO. 292 Broadway, New-York 

Clobkd as Debs. 


No. 42. Packed and delivered on cars. 

Flat Top Desk. 

Made in Walnut, Cherry or Oak. Size, 
54x33^ inches. Two slides ahove drawers. 
Automatic Lock. Cloth or Polished Veneer 
Top. First class in every particular. 

Send for Desk Catalogue. 


43 and. 45 South. Meridian Street, 
Indianapolis, Ind. 

To control your business you must have Facts. 

How many times has your money drawer been opened? 
How much money is in tbat drawer at this moment ? 
How many mistakes have your clerks made to-day ? 
How many times have they made wrong change? 
How many goods have been sold on credit and not charged ? 
How much has been paid out and not put dowr ? 
How much have you received on account and not credited ? 
How many times have your clerks made change ? 
You do not know, yet these are vital points in your business, and the facts you must have if you would get every cent due you. A National 
Cash Register System furnishes you a record of every cash or credit transaction. It protects you against all the unintentional mistakes that 
happen to the most careful clerks. 

For " Checks," a valuable book for retailers. 
Note. — Over 22,500 National Cash Registers in use in all parts of the world. 


of The Century have a Scrap Book ? 
Have you ? Do you keep it clean and tidy ? 
Does the paste stick to suit you ? 
Aha ! /Interested, eh ? 



meets all requirements. For Mounting Photographs 
it is unsurpassed. 

The Objections Mentioned Above 
Prompted its Discovery. 


is a dry powder, ground very fine and condensed five 
times, that is, you add five times as much water as 
powder, and the paste is ready for use. 

Put up in packages with the cutest little brass-bound 
brush you ever saw. 

You will order a package ? Thank you. 
Druggists, Photo. Supply Dealers and Stationers keep it, or you 
can send 25 cents in stamps to 



Albany, N. Y., U. S. A. 

New -York Office, 93 Barclay Street; 
Boston, 156 State Street ; Chicago, 66 Wabash Avenue. 
Oct. '90. 


Fine Brass Work. 

Special designs on 



76 Fifth Ave., N. Y. City. 


195 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 



Cheap, Portable, No Ink Ribbon, Interchangeable Type in all 

Languages, Easiest to learn and rapid as any. 

Agents wanted everywhere. 


National Typewriter Co. 

F. 0. Box 5159. 10 Temple Place, Boston, Mass. 

Send for Catalogue and Specimens of Work. 





Best for Manifolding. 100,000 Daily Users. 


Ideal and Universal Keyboards. 


The Hammond won all the prizes in 
the late Typewriter Contest, by unani- 
mous decision of five printers, represent- 
ing the largest establishments in America. 
2772 contestants, representing all lead- 
ing machines. 

A check for $7267.50 just received 
from the U. S. Treasury for 75 Ham- 



447-449 East 52d Street, 
77 Nassau Street, 

New- York. 


Single Case, No. 1, - - - - $70.00 

Double Case, "2, - - - 85.00 

New Special, " 3, - - - _ 100.0O 

For account of speed contests and circulars, address 



Branch Offices: 237 Broadway, New- York. 

14 West 4th Street, Cincinnati, O. 
1003 Arch Street, Philadelphia. 

"Improvement the Order of the Age." 


All Users of 


have felt the necessity of their being improved. 
Yon will find in 



ALL THE Essential Features greatly perfected and Important Improvements. 

THE BEST inventive Talent and Mechanical Skill have been employed to 
produce a Machine of Greater Durability, Excellence of Design and Special 

WE CLAIM, and inspection and trial prove it, The Most Durable in 
Alignment, Easiest Running and Most Silent. 

All Type Cleaned in 10 Seconds without Soiling Hands. Send/or Catalogue. 



Tilton Mfg. Co., 50 Hartford St., Boston. Transvaal > Sa Africa Republic, Feb'y 8th, 1890. 
We send you our order for 12 machines. Forward bv the most expeditious route. * * * Our 

Mr. Taylor will himself handle your machines, having handled the R . It was 

toe heavy, cumbersome and high-priced for general use here. * * * 

Very truly, H. F. Taylor & Co. 

Ifyou are in doubt about the excellence, capacity and speed of the VICTOR TYPEWRITER, send for testimonials and sample of its work. 

IT HAS 80 CHARACTERS, therefore scope unexceled by any high-priced machine. 
J^^ANT-A-NEOUS RELEASE of printing point as soon as impression is made allows great speed. 
PERFECT ALIGNMENT AND REGISTER. All the advantages of the best in this respect. 
WORK ALWAYS IN SIGHT, and postals and envelopes addressed without bending. 
And plenty more which you can know about by sending your address to Manufacturers, 

TILTON MFC. CO. 50 Hartford St. BOSTON, MASS., or 32 I Broadway, NEW-YORK. 

11 you are in doubt about the e 

Advantages j 

Fore and Four. 

To be fore-handed 
is almost as good as 
to be four-handed. 
To own a Reming- 
ton Standard Type- 
writer is to be prac- 
tically both. This 

first and foremost 
indeed chief among busi- 
ness facilities, and may be made helpful, not 
only to do correspondence, but as a salesman, 
and, in fact, as a general utility man. 

writing machine is 

Have you tried a fountain pen ? 

Did it fail you ? 
Then try 

The "Old Reliable" 


Ideal Fountain Pen 

That Never Fails. 

" I still find it the most reliable instrument of its 
kind."— Chauncey M. Depew. 

Money refunded if it does not suit you. If 
your stationer will not supply you don't take 
any other, but send for circular with price-list 
and testimonials. 

Every fountain pen user will want either the 
Travelers' or the Desk size of our new Filler and 
Ink Bottle. The Filler corks the Bottle, and the 
Bottle keeps the Filler ready for use next time. 

See advertisements hi previoiis uto/iders. 
Agents Wanted. Mention The Century. 


L.. E. Waterman Co. 

155 Broadway, New- York. 

Low- Priced 





No instruction is needed for its use, and speed is 
easily attained by little practice. 




Catalogue free. Address Typewriter Department, 
Popk Mitg, Co., Boston, New York, Chicago. 



New or Second-Hand, any make, bought, sold and 
r exchanged. Good machines at half first cost. Get 
our prices before buying. Everything guaranteed. 
Machines rented anywhere. Largest stock in America. 
Eibbons, carbon, linen papers, etc. New and enlarged 
catalogue describing all machines, including new 
makes, now ready. Only complete catalogue of the 
kind published. 

am btherr'NflTIONaL TYPE-WRITER EXCHANGE "^fiSk eet 




In consideration of the increasing demand for a 
standard two-handed Typewriter at a low price, we 
have abandoned the expensive method of selling through 
agents, and now offer the same machine (heretofore 
sold at $75.00) direct from Factory to user at $50.00 
net cash. Write us for catalogue, sample of work, and 
special features of the "Crandall." Address 

Crandall Machine Co. Groton, N. Y. 

Or, 353 Broadway, N. Y. City. 
237 La Salle St. Chicago, III. 


Fountain Pen, 

With patent spiral feed, which regulates 
the flow of the ink, doing away with the 
flooding and blotting which is the com- 
mon fault with all other makes. 


with extra gold and silver mountings, 
made especially for this season, which 
we are offering at very low prices until 
Jan. 1, 1891. 



Stylographic Pens, $1X0 each, delivered. 

For Canada, order of Chas. F. Dawson, Montreal. 

Mention Century. 

The largest 
Writing Ma- 
chines was 
for the 

order the U. S. GOVERNMENT ever placed for 

Type Writer 

Irrespective of price, the best and most complete Writing Machine 
made. Embodies every good quality found in other Writing Machines, 
and has many points of superiority, all its own. Smallest and most 
comprehensive double case finger key machine made. Writes eighty-one 
to eighty-five characters, including capitals, small letters, figures, punc- 
tuation marks, commercial signs, etc. ,with only twenty-nine keys to learn 
and manipulate. Entirely portable. Weighs about thirteen pounds. 
Occupies space of a Dictionary. Perfect Manifolder. 
More and better manifold copies than upon any ma- 
chine made. Price, including portable office case- 

Every Machine Warranted. 
NATIONAL TYPEWRITER CO., Manfrs. and Sole Agents. 

715, 717 and 719 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa., U. S. A. 
Send for illustrated pamphlet, giving fac-simile of key-board. 

it thirteen pounds. 


A Simple, 


Within the 
Means of All. 
You Need Not 

G-o to School to 
Learn How to 

Use It, or Mort- 
gage Your 

House to 


Does Work 

Equal to 
the One 


Has no Ribbon 
to Wear Out, 
Smut the 

Fingers or 

• *-t_».» 


Prints from Clear 
Metal Type, is Self-ink- 
ing and Beautiful in 
Style and Finish. 

The MERRITT Typewriter is the best. 

This is exact copy of The "MERRITT* S" work. 
It is equal to that of any High Priced Type- 
writer. Relieves fatigue from steady use of 
pen. Improves spelling and punctuation. Inter- 
ests and instructs children. The entire corres- 
pondence of a business house can be done with 
it. Learned in a half hour from directions. 
Prints capitals, small letters, figures and 
characters, — 78 in all. Price $15, complete. 

Can both 
Useful and 


New Year's 
or Birthday 


vvvyik a ,r» ». «* *> ^ a a m 

Write for Circulars, Voluntary 
Testimonials and Sworn-to 

Speed Test of 60 Words a Minute. 



OF PRICE, $15.00. 



Mention, this publication. 

In OAK case, 

Dove-tailed corners, 

Gilt Trimmings, 

Plush Lined, 

on receipt of $18.50 


Case, Rich and 
Elegant Finish, 

Satin Lined, 
Nickel Plated 

and Highly 

on receipt of $17.50 


Mineral Waters have been held in high esteem as remedies both by the civilized and uncivilized 
of every age, and in modern times their use has rapidly increased until now their beneficial effects are 
recognized by all. Oneita has been found by physicians who use it, one of the best known mineral 
waters for Rheumatism, Gout, Kidney and Liver troubles, Dyspepsia, etc. Send for analysis of 
C. F. Chandler, Ph. D. 





Extract of Beef. 




— THE — 





Awarded the Gold Medal, Paris, 1889. 
Adopted by the U. S. Army Medical Department. 


fXF the contents of a package of " Cerea- 
^ line Flakes" costing twenty cents, a cook 
in a private family of six persons, made pud- 
dings five times, waffles twice, muffins three 
times, griddle-cakes five times; used "Cere- 
aline Flakes" in soups twice in place of sago 
and barley, and added some to six bakings 
of bread. Buy a package of Cerealine Flakes 
of your grocer, and try how far you can make 
its contents go yourself. 

The " Cerealine Cook Book." and " Cereal Foods," 
with illustrations of "Hiawatha's Fasting," will 
be sent free to any address on receipt of a two- 
cent stamp for postage, by 


"A picture of my little girl, Bess, born July 25th, 1887, 
now three years old, whose life was saved, Summer 
of '88 } by the use of 

Mellin's Food. 

Yours truly, 

Paris, 111., April 28, 1890. 



Boston, Mass. 

Ox Tail, 

Mock Turtle, Terrapin, 

Okra or Gumbo, Macaroni, 

Green Turtle, Consomme, 

Julienne, Soup and Bouilli, 

Vermicelli, Chicken, Mullagatawny. 


Re \Te^^°a d b ;t h o^4. and | * n Egtf££g£i£Si^ I H r e r yed th \ hi * hest r ^ uta - 

' ou, y ine Dest materials. | tion for more than 32 years. 
TCOT mrr I Send us 30 cents, to help pay express, and receive, prepaid, two sam- 
ItOl Mitt 8 P le cans ot * t^ese Soups, yonr choice. 

J. H. W. HUCKINS <fc CO. 

SOLD BY all leading grocers. Sole Manufacturers, Boston Mais. 



5H jci SPICES 



Guaranteed absolutely pure, and warranted to excel 
all others in strength, richness, flavor and cleanliness. 


At discounts ranging from ten to sixty per cent, from the pub- 
lishers' regular retail prices. Before purchasing elsewhere, find out 
what we can do for you. Sender cents for our latest catalogue 


520 First Nat. Bank Bld'g, Chicago, 111. 

Fine China. 

Beautifully Illustrated Catalogue of Fine 
China, Art Pottery, Rich Cut Glass, Wedding Gifts, 
&c, mailed free, upon application to 

HIGGINS & SEITEE, 50 & 52 West 22d St. N, T. 







To Enjoy a Cup of Perfect Tea. 
A trial order of 3^ pounds of Fine Tea, 
Oolong, Japan, Imperial, Gunpowder, Young 
yson, Mixed, English Breakfast or Sun Sun Chop, 
sent by mail on receipt of $2.00. Be particular 
and state what kind of Tea you want. Greatest 
— inducement ever offered to get orders for our 
celebrated Teas, Coffees and Baking Powder. For full particulars, 
P. O. Box 289, New-York, N. Y. 31 and 33 Vesey St. 



The most nutritious and digestible of Foods. Delicious to all 
tastes. Send for pamphlet. Trial box by mail, 36c. Address 
OUR HOME GRANULA CO., Bansville, N. Y. 


No, our 
are not ex- 
tracts, con- 
centrations nor any 
such thing. They 
need no diluting. They are 
absolutely ready for t